A Game of Kings
by AsherAtori
Summary: "There are things worse than death, but you won't understand them until you've died one thousand times over." The team's past comes back to haunt them, and their young architect learns there is far more to the world of dreams than just Inception
1. Prologue

**_Four years ago..._**

Tokyo was a city that was always illuminated.

The streets glowed at night, neon lights exchanged for sun, the din of cars traded for the voices of people out on the town. The Shinjuku district's usual uniform of business suits were shed for posh designer clothing at night and the crowds of locals and foreigners moved about almost as if they were they rhythmic heart beat of the entire city. The Shinjuku Mitsui Building offered the perfect view of the clatter, the twinkle of stars reflecting the electrical bulbs, but the two men who sat atop it were far more interested in the chessboard laid out before them than the world alive beneath them.

The chessboard was wooden, and the pieces were old but the two men didn't seem to notice or care, both far more concerned with the opponent they were seated across from. The man dressed in black advanced his rook and exhaled waiting for the man dressed in white to move. "We may have a problem," he said. He was unsure if the man dressed in white had heard, his blue eyes too fixated on the next move. The man in black ran his tongue over his teeth and opened his mouth to speak again. The man in white raised his hand and he held his tongue watching as a white pawn captured one of his rooks. The man in black felt a rush of heat to his cheeks in a mixture of rage and embarrassment.

"Now then," the man in white started, "what seems to be the problem?"

The man in black pulled his gaze away from the chessboard and met the man in white's eyes. He composed himself and spoke slowly, "I've lost track of her." He looked back down at the board quickly, unwilling to read the reaction from his statement in his opponent's eyes. He advanced his queen and spoke once more, "Check."

The man in white chuckled lightly. "I told you she couldn't be controlled." He moved his King into a safer position and sighed slightly, "You should have known that better than any of us Antoine."

"Yes well, that doesn't excuse the fact that whomever she encounters will not live to speak about it. You know as well as I do that if she is not leashed she will destroy countless minds. She killed your last Point Man; I wouldn't want your new one to meet a similar fate." He advanced a pawn slowly, hoping the bait would be taken. His eyes moved up from the chessboard and he caught the blue eyed gaze staring back at him once more. He swallowed and stared back, keeping his face even and emotionless. He knew it didn't matter, the man in white, his ex partner and long time friend could read him better than anyone else.

"Arthur is smarter. Eames found him in Monte Carlo and has faith he won't be as easy to kill. I wasn't inclined to believe at first but since he nearly broke the pickpocket's hand, and seems to have a bit of a temper I'm almost certain that if he crosses _her_ path he'll survive." The man in white's smile widened slightly, "Mal likes him, though she thinks he needs to loosen up a bit."

The man in black bit the inside of his cheek in an effort to control his mounting rage as best he could, "How is Mal, by the way?"

The man in white didn't answer immediately, once again focused on the chess board. He moved his bishop ignoring the trap set by his opponent and leaned back in the fold up chair, "Doing well, staying stateside until the baby is born. Little boy this time."

The man in black could feel his fingernails digging into his palms. "You're a lucky man Dom, too lucky sometimes." He forced a smile before redirecting his attention back to the game.

The man in white nodded, "Maybe so." The conversation faded into nothingness, the sounds of the busy streets coiling around them as they played. "That's not the why I asked to meet you," the man in white said as his opponent finished his move. "You see, there is something that has been nagging at me for a little while now, and well since you've already brought it up."

The man in black looked up, "What is it?"

"Who was her last target? I mean, I haven't heard any jobs for assassins come across the line in a while so I was wondering…" The man in white glanced at the board indifferently before twisting the captured black rook in his fingers. He shrugged after a moment and replaced the rook with the other captured black pieces. "Eames couldn't get it out of her when we found her, quite surprising actually, and he's the only Forger I know who can impersonate you."

The man in black's gaze became a glare, he had been afraid their idle chit chat would take this turn and since it did, he saw no point in denying anything or withholding any truth. Checkmate he thought slowly smiling at the man in white. "He couldn't get anything out of her because I warned her this time that the consequences for speaking with the Forger would be dire. I couldn't allow myself to be incriminated, not when I was the one to finger the target. Of course it seems, her silence spoke the truth regardless."

The man in white shook his head, "Foolish to use your own assassin. Miles wouldn't approve, but then again he was never partial to the idea of using someone like that for Mind Breaking."

"Miles never approved of anything I did," the man in black sneered, "I had ambition, I wanted to do more than create cities unlike you whom he loved so much, you with your architecture and charm."

"I got what I wanted; I didn't need to create an empire to feel like a king."

The man in black felt the grip on his rage loosen ever so slightly, "Make your move Dom."

The man in white did as he was told, sliding his Queen across the board before rising slowly. The man in black followed mimicking the action, smoothing out his sport's coat in an effort to create the façade of composure. They stared at each other for a moment before the man in white spoke, "So you've lost your assassin, how unfortunate it is that you are no less dangerous."

"No, and I haven't lost her you've merely hidden her from me haven't you Dom? She always comes back, and if she was dead I would know. If she was dead you wouldn't be here gloating about it."

The man in white strode to the edge of the building and stared down at the cityscape, "You know I don't do that, but I am curious, which one of us was the intended target? Now that I know that's why she was there; if your leash on her was so strong you must have been the one who sent her. I had figured it was me but the way her focus turned when she saw…" He turned and faced the man in black. "Do you hold us in so much contempt my old friend that you would wish to kill us?"

The man in black smiled, "You know as well as I do that she wasn't there to kill either of you. I wouldn't do that to my god child or, children soon enough it seems." He approached the man in white slowly, circling him, his gaze predatory. "But if she had broken your mind, had dropped you into the depths of that hell, well…" he smiled and shook his head, "It was a long shot but perhaps I would have finally gotten what was long owed to me."

"Mal."

The man in black nodded, "Yes."

The man in white turned back and looked down at the city once more when the click of a cocking handgun echoed around him, "Mal would never have you, she views your desire for power as a weakness. As for your assassin, she's of no use to you anymore"

"I will be the judge of that." He snapped, "Now, where is she?"

The man in white stepped up to the edge of the building and looked down. "Somewhere you will never find her. Sofia deserves her peace, and as long as she has it she won't cause anymore harm."

"Damnit Cobb!" the man in black snarled, "I won't let this one go, I'll destroy every aspect of your life until you give them back, both of them!"

Cobb stopped listening to his old friend. He listened instead to the sound of the city and thought of his wife, thought of her smile. He thought of the concern in her eyes when she found him in a deep dark corner, clinging to his sanity. He thought of her lips and the words she had spoken to wake him up.

"_Come back with me, come back to me…"_

He turned and looked back at the man in black. Antoine was enraged, and it made him smile. He hadn't deserved her and he would never have her. "Leave us alone now, let us live our lives. Let us be a small shadow in your empire" He stepped off the Shinjuku Mitsui Building and felt the air surround him moments before he hit the ground and was kicked back to the real world.

The man in black stood atop the building feeling it crumble beneath his feet. The dream was coming apart. Cobb had known all along, but he had always known hadn't he? He laughed aloud and looked at the chessboard once more. The White Queen had placed the Black King in Checkmate. He knocked over the wooden pieces with the nose of his gun and shook his head. "You are a lucky man old friend, but this isn't over yet." The ground gave out beneath him and he fell into the blackness of dreamless sleep.

A/N: This Prologue is brought to you by the song:

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	2. Chapter 1

The best airport in the world hands down, was in Las Vegas. This was due to an unparalleled combination of liquor, slot machines, and stewardesses, the majority of whom could have easily moonlit as supermodels. Eames grinned broadly and took a healthy swig of his gin and tonic before shoving another quarter in the slot machine he was seated at. Arthur and Cobb had yet to show themselves and he saw little point in waiting in an uncomfortable leather chair when the overstuffed ones at the machines were so much cozier. They had voiced their concerns about flying out of Vegas, especially since neither gent was fond of coach or of flying flights that had a bunch of stops, but he had assured them that he had taken care of everything.

…That had concerned them even more.

He had laughed if off of course, after all, they were just anxious to get to Paris; it wasn't everyday one of their own graduated from University. He slipped another coin into the slot and grinned once more as he recalled the brilliant young architect who had been far wittier than any he had ever crossed paths with. And, considering his many years in the business of dreaming that spoke measures. Sure, Cobb had been a fantastic man in his day but Ariadne had surpassed him tenfold in half the time. He finished his drink, and stood. They had told him to make certain he obtained a graduation gift and as the hour grew later he had begun to grow worried the package wouldn't arrive on time.

He rose from the slot machine slowly, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. Yusuf was seated down the row, and separated from him by three older women who all had the same hairstyle as him, the only difference being the blue tint of theirs. The chemist had confessed to not being much of a gambler when they had first arrived in Vegas, so much so, Eames was certain the man was going to be a stick in the mud about going out and enjoying the sights but, thankfully, he had lost his nerve quickly and taken to the glittering lights and cheap drinks like a fish to water. Not having the heart to disturb him, Eames shook his head and made his way to a bar a few steps behind the machines.

The individual he was supposed to be meeting was named Keno Asagi, a half Japanese, half Spanish businessman who had caught up with Eames through Saito, something that had been happening quite often since the Fischer job. He and Saito had formed a bond neither had been aware of until after the job had been finished, and though it went against his better instincts to keep contact with Saito, he had grown to enjoy the odd characters that contacted him with their strange extraction and occasional inception requests. Most were ridiculous or crossed what few moral and ethical lines he kept. Mr. Asagi had been different.

The job had sounded legitimate and, unlike some of the earlier prospects Mr. Asagi had come highly recommended. He and two of what Eames assumed were either body guards or assistants had accosted him and Yusuf a week before their trip to Vegas. The details they had been given about the prospective job were brief but sounded pleasantly foolproof. And the fact that the target was located in France, well that made the timing just perfect didn't it?

Eames and Mr Asagi had agreed to meet in Vegas one week later to discuss the details as well as familiarize himself with the rest of the crew, Ariadne being the one exception. But less than an hour remained before flight time and the client had not shown himself. Eames sighed, thoroughly disappointed before shuffling to the bar for a second gin and tonic. He almost missed the glance from the man seated alone, dressed in a suit too expensive for a tourist in Vegas.

He was a smaller gentleman of Asian descent with cropped hair dressed in a crisp suit that made the suit Eames was donning look cheap (which, it was certainly anything but). He had exchanged a silk tie for a simple black button and the sport coat was tailored for his narrow frame without appearing feminine in the slightest. A martini sat on the bar before him untouched, his manicured hands neatly folded over a thick manila envelope. Eames narrowed his eyes slightly before taking a seat next to him doing his best to keep his gaze focused on the boozes neatly arranged on the back of the bar. After a moment of gazing at the vodkas and whiskeys, Eames decided that acting elusive and covert was highly unnecessary and highly out of character for one such as himself.

"You're late," Eames mused, motioning for the barkeep.

The man unfolded his hands and reached for the martini not affording Eames a glance. He brought the drink to his lips and sipped slowly, savoring what Eames was certain was the best gin or vodka the airport bar had to offer. He considered ordering himself the same drink when the man spoke, "Mr. Asagi apologizes for causing you and your team inconvenience. It was his wish to meet with you himself, but he was held up by a prior and rather pressing engagement."

Eames nodded more to the barkeep that was sitting down the drink before him than to the man on his left. He tossed a red clay chip to the bartender before returning his full attention to the smaller man. "It must be pressing." He took a healthy swig of the drink, "I'm sorry actually, I was really looking forward to going back into the field."

The shorter man slid the manila envelope over to Eames, "Mr. Asagi assumed you would react in such a manner which is why he sent me with this." Eames lifted the envelope testing its weight. He went to open it but the smaller man stopped him short, "It contains everything that should be necessary and more, including a detailed profile of your target and the information that Mr. Asagi requires you to extract."

Eames turned the envelope over once more before setting it on the bar stool next to him, "Do you know what it is we're looking for?"

The smaller man's lips twitched slightly, "Whatever it is Mr. Eames, it is so personal that no one except for Mr. Asagi and the target know about it." For the first time since their meeting the smaller man's gaze shifted towards Eames, "If the information is leaked it will destroy everything Mr. Asagi has worked for. And if his empire falls well…" his lips twitched once more, "Mr. Asagi is not a forgiving man Mr. Eames. You and your team will do well to remember that."

"If this job is so important one would likely assume one's client would have had the courtesy to show himself." Eames gazed around the bar and smiled a wide mocking smile, "Instead he sends his peon to threaten me and my team? Rather bold move don't you think?"

The smaller man pulled a Blackberry from his coat. He scrolled through for a moment before passing it to Eames. The thief's face turned an ill shade of gray. "Mr. Asagi sends no threats Mr. Eames, he is merely a firm believer that one must always have insurance when it comes to working with those in your field. You and your team were chosen for this assignment because of your association with Mr. Saito, who claims you're the best, and this information will be destroyed once the job is completed." He slipped the Blackberry back into his pocket.

Eames exhaled a slow ragged breath, his heart thudding against his chest rapidly, "And if we fail, or better yet what if I said we were not interested?"

The smaller man lifted the martini glass to his lips once more and swallowed the remainder of the clear liquid before replacing it on the bar; the green olives left spinning in his wake. He slid off the bar stool and turned to face Eames, "You have two weeks. If Mr. Asagi does not hear from you by then it will be assumed you've failed and you and your team will suffer the consequences. If you accomplish your task you will be handsomely rewarded and no one will find out about your little secret. You have no choice but to accept Mr. Eames, if you walk out of here without the information then a certain third party will receive that piece of information I know you've worked so hard to keep hidden." He turned and glided away before Eames could speak.

Eames turned back to the bar and downed the remainder of the gin and tonic in one swig. An icy chill had begun working its way up his spine but he fought the urge to shutter aloud. Mr. Asagi, even if inadvertently, was playing with a fire that would incinerate him if given the opportunity. He silently prayed the team wasn't going to kill him when they found out, especially Cobb. Though he imagined that was the least of his worries, after all if they failed they were all dead anyway. He pulled a black poker chip from his pocket and sat it on the bar before flicking it. The chip spun on its side momentarily before clinking into his glass and toppling over. He replaced it in his pocket and stood tucking the manila envelope under his arm.

Yusuf was approaching the bar, his expression crestfallen, "They're fixed you know," he said before sliding past Eames.

Eames stood still for a moment furrowing his brows together before a smile cracked on his face, "What? Did the blue hairs show you up on the slots?"

Yusuf grumbled something inaudible and Eames chuckled harder the assignment temporarily forgotten. "Come on man, nothing a little spirit won't fix eh?"

Yusuf nodded shooting whiskey quickly. "Speaking of spirit, any sign of the client?"

Eames waved the envelope in front of him but Yusuf showed little interest once the shot glass was refilled. Eames moved to take the seat next to him when the sound of a throat clearing caught his attention.

"Seriously, whiskey before a flight? I don't care how much you paid for the tickets; there isn't a flight attendant in the world that deserves to clean up that mess."

Eames turned. Arthur and Cobb were standing a few feet away. Cobb was smiling slightly, his eyes warm while Arthur wore a look better fitting someone thirty or so years his senior. Yusuf casually displayed his middle finger before downing one more shot. Arthur shook his head which made Eames grin, "Well we're on a private jet so he'll have to do it himself if it makes you feel better. You should join him boyo, God knows you could use a little loosening up."

Arthur scowled at Eames but Cobb spoke before the battle could wage on. "Whatever it is we're flying we should probably head out soon, I've got business in Paris before the graduation." Eames nodded and Yusuf paid his tab, stumbling slightly before regaining his composure. Arthur shook his head but said nothing. The four men moved through the gates and down to the runway before boarding a smaller plane that belonged to the airline Saito had purchased for the Fischer job. No one noticed or said anything about the manila envelope still tucked under Eames' arm. Maybe the job would be as simple as Mr. Asagi had originally explained it to be.

Maybe they would succeed, and everything he and Cobb had worked so hard to conceal would stay hidden.

A/N: Thanks to those of you who reviewed the Prologue, much appreciated. I'll answer any questions posed in the reviews in this next chapter.

Chapter 1 brought to you by:

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	3. Chapter 2

The tennis bracelet that was snug inside a blue velvet box was composed of a twenty four karat white gold band and thirty flawless and petite diamonds. It had taken Arthur over a week to acquire it; a week composed of viscous shopping, debating and decision making before finally settling on something that, though not exactly perfect would have to do. He had found himself pleasantly surprised at how well Ariadne had performed during the Fischer case, and if he wanted to purchase a gift for the graduation that was worth something and would last, well that was his prerogative wasn't it? It wasn't as if that meant he had any feelings towards the younger girl, no, she was a coworker, and that was that. It didn't matter how many times Cobb nodded his head or snickered in a placating manner.

One did not mix business and pleasure. Though purchasing a bangle that would look quite lovely on someone with such feminine wrists walked a line that was it, nothing more. He had been expecting Eames to say something snide but the thief's eyes had glazed over and Arthur could almost smell the smoke from his brain buzzing at the sight of jewelry. Arthur closed the box and shoved it back into the pocket of his trench on the seat next to him. Eames watched him closely and kept his gaze fixated on the coat until the younger man cleared his throat. The thief licked his lips, grinning broadly at Arthur.

Ariadne would receive the bracelet. Eames didn't steal from his coworkers or rifle through Arthur's pockets anymore. He had attempted it once, and never since then. Of course, had the sticky fingers not slipped into his lapel he would not have been seated on a plane with the thief and the man who had changed his life. He glanced at Cobb who wore a half smile at something Yusuf had said in a moment of drunkenness and suppressed a grin of his own. Spending a week in Vegas with Eames could do that to a man.

"So a lovely bracelet, from Mr. Arthur," Eames mused, interrupting Arthur's thought process, "What about you Dom? What gift did you purchase for our little architect?"

Arthur had asked the same question on the cab ride to the airport but Cobb had answered the question by asking him what he brought. The point man had blushed then, an action that was highly uncharacteristic and quite annoying for someone who so prided themselves in their ability to remain stoic in all situations. A poker face was a must, even around coworkers and friends, that was after all, what made him the best. Cobb could see right through him however, and had merely chuckled slightly and turned to the window watching the traffic pass by, either indifferent to Arthur's answer or satisfied with the reaction he had gotten. Eames had asked the question once the plane they were in had left the runway and Arthur had merely displayed the bracelet deciding it was best to leave out exactly how he had gone about acquiring it.

Thankful that the attention was no longer on him and with his curiosity piqued, Arthur watched as Cobb pulled a chess piece from his coat pocket. Arthur recognized the piece immediately-the white king. Ariadne's totem had been a chess piece, a bishop. He recalled the moment she had shown it to him, quite proud of her customizations. This was made of wood, and meticulously carved, Arthur considered reaching out to see if Cobb would hand it to him but he stopped himself. Habit dictated otherwise. He had seen Cobb's totem, they all had save for Yusuf perhaps, but that mattered little. There was still the chance that the white king was a stand in or a replacement for the top that would spin forever in the depth of dreams.

"A chess piece?" Eames scoffed, "Is that it? Dear man, if you're a bit tight you could have said something, not that it would have mattered after Yusuf's unsightly display at the tables but-"

"It's part of a set, you ass." Cobb shot back. "It's already in France with Miles." Cobb shoved the piece back into his pocket. "What did you two get her?"

Arthur didn't say anything, quietly amused at the exchange between the two men. Cobb had a short temper at times, and Eames liked to push his buttons. But then again, Eames liked to push everyone's buttons and the only man who had ever been able to get under the thief's skin was Cobb. It was rare for the man with all the pithy comebacks to be caught with his jaw slightly ajar but that was exactly how he looked in that moment and Arthur couldn't help the laugh that escaped his slightly parted lips.

"Well it certainly isn't a chess set or a sparkly piece of jewelry but I think the gift that Yusuf and I have brought will be the winner boys." Eames deposited a thick manila envelope on the table in front of Cobb before leaning back in his seat.

"Your memoirs?" Arthur inquired. He had noticed the envelope tucked under the older man's arm when they had caught up with them in the bar.

"No, that would be my other gift. This, my dear comrades is a little job I've set up in France."

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "Since when did people start coming to you with jobs?" He knew that Eames worked on smaller jobs every now and then, usually involving the type of extractions that Cobb felt were immoral, but he had never known the man to be one to organize crews and he had never brought anything to them.

"Not mu usual cup of tea but then our leader here took his sabbatical, and Saito and I started conversing regularly. The man's got a fantastic scotch selection, I have to tell you. Started talking up the inception and prospective clients from all over have not stopped trying to knock down my door."

Cobb opened the manila envelope and spilled its contents across the table. Documents, a disc and a few photos of men Arthur had never seen were scattered about. "Who's the mark?" Cobb shuffled through the items, his expression dull and half interested.

Eames shrugged, "Apparently it's all in the documents."

"And who is it we're working for exactly?" Cobb's tone was sharp, contrasting with his expression.

"The man's name is Keno Asagi. He caught up with Yusuf and me on our way to Vegas. He was supposed to be on this plane with us but apparently he was occupied by more pressing matters."

"But he'll be in France right?" Arthur asked. They hadn't done a job since the Inception. He was a man who enjoyed his line of work and a few months between jobs tended to be more than enough time.

Eames hesitated, "No, but we have the information. And I know we've all done far more complicated jobs with far less information in the past."

Arthur felt the warm rush of anger and bit his lip. Cobb would say no, he had his children to go home to now; there would be no way he would take a job without having met the client himself. At least he certainly assumed that would be the case. He watched silently as the other man flipped through a thick stack of papers thoughtfully.

Arthur was not a risk taker. He was methodical and cautious to a fault, a fact that made him so very good at what he did. But the prospects of the dream…well that always had a wavering effect on him, enough so that he was almost willing to take the risk of such an anonymous client. "So who's the mark and what are we supposed to extract exactly?"

Cobb's eyes moved furiously across the last page in the stack of papers. "The man's name is Thomas Murnighan, an American investor. According to this, his dealings are in technology, and he is about to help release information regarding a device that will effectively disarm any cyber security system set up or maintained by a country's government." Cobb narrowed his eyes, "If I'm reading this correctly Murnighan, and Asagi worked together. Asagi designed the program himself and hired Murnighan to help him market it to the different governments across the world, but I guess he fears that Murnighan has already sold the information to what he calls 'enemies of the state'."

Arthur felt his heartbeat quicken. They didn't usually do jobs like this. No, he and Cobb had always done their very best of staying clear of anything that could prospectively involve governments or those who had dealings with them. Cobb sat the papers back on the table and shuffled through the photos slightly. He leaned back in his seat after a moment, his fingers strumming against the leather arm rests. "It's risky. Possibly treasonous for Arthur and Me, you do realize that don't you?"

Arthur did, but if the information was indeed a matter of national security there was nothing to say they would actually extract it. If it meant convincing the client all was well and laying low for a while, well, it wouldn't have been the first time. "I've enjoyed sleeping in my own bed Eames, I'm not certain I'm willing to give that up." Cobb continued.

Arthur lifted the stack of papers and skimmed over them. The target would be easy to get hold of and extractions were far easier than inceptions. Two levels deep at the most, and with Aridane as their architect well it would practically be a cakewalk. But it was up to Cobb. He had more to lose than any one else in that plane and there was no way the point man would make a move without his boss's okay. "What do you think Cobb?" he asked, his eyes still trailing over the lines of information. Asagi had done his research.

"You're a big boy Arthur, why do you need me to make the decision?"

Arthur didn't retort, both he and Cobb knew he didn't move without the okay from the older man. He glanced at Eames in an effort to keep his gaze from Cobb and was surprised to see that the thief had not only lost his signature smirk but had also gone quite pale. "I don't need you to, but it looks like our forger friend does."

Cobb tapped his chin with his index finger, "Let's get to France and then we'll make our decision. After all, we have to make certain we have an architect on board."

Arthur tossed the stack of papers back on the table. "We've got a long flight until then. Pardon me gentlemen if I choose to follow the lead of our chemist and close my eyes."

Both Eames and Cobb looked over at Yusuf who had either fallen asleep or passed out during the conversation. He was tilted back at an angle that Arthur knew meant he would have a horribly cricked neck when he woke and his mouth was slightly ajar. He shook his head before closing his own eyes calling upon the sleep that so often eluded him. Minutes passed, then an hour or so, he had lost track, walking that fine line that separated the conscious mind from the unconscious. Eames and Cobb had moved to the wet bar behind the seats and were talking amongst themselves. Arthur was not the type of man who would admit to listening in on conversation but it had become habit once he'd become a point man and one he had never been very good at turning off.

Eames spoke first, his voice a hushed whisper that came across with a frantic air. "We have to do this."

"Why? Why should we? I have money, and I have a family. I like my footing in reality Mr. Eames." Cobb sounded tired, as if the conversation had taken place before. Arthur felt a pang of disappointment.

"If we don't, well, Asagi will tell him where she is. They've found her Cobb. If we don't do this and she wakes up, well, then what? Reality will become a myth."

Arthur kept his expression blank and listened. She? No, Mal was dead so who could it be that would have the forger so frightened? He knew that Cobb and Eames had history that predated him by a few years and neither individual was all that good about talking about the past.

Cobb sighed, "Then they wake her up. We knew it was only a matter of time anyway."

Eames laughed nervously, "Just like that then? She'll find you. She did last time and damnit man, what about your children?"

There was no response; Arthur listened to the sound of Yusuf's breathing for what felt like a lifetime waiting for Cobb to say something. Relief washed over him when he finally did only to have it followed closely with disappointment, "Fine then, we do this job but then we're through and I don't mean the crew I mean me and you. You're the best at what you do Eames but your right, if I associate with you and she does wake up I have my children to think about." There was a rush of fabric and the sound of grappling. Arthur fought the urge to look and listened as Cobb spoke once more, "And Don't think for one moment I won't give you to her if it means their lives, and after all, you're the one who left her there."

****  
A/N: To those of you who review thank you. I hope you're enjoying the suspense! I promise you won't be disappointed! To answer any psuedo questions this fic involves the entire crew. There is light A/A but it happens more in the background. If this fic was centric to any character it would be Eames due to the fact that he was my favorite in the film and he is the funnest to write about. Hopefully that doesn't deter anyone from reading!

Chapter 2 is brought to you by the following song:

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	4. Chapter 3

Ariadne strummed her fingers on the glass table anxiously. The rest of the crew from the Fischer job would be arriving at the café any moment now, Saito being the exception. She had arrived twenty minutes early and had picked out a large table which was sitting out on the sidewalk, the early afternoon sun just peaking above the Paris rooftops offering the right amount of light and warmth. It was close enough that they wouldn't be ignored by the wait staff but far enough away that any eavesdropper would have to strain to listen to their conversation. Her stomach somersaulted for what felt like the hundredth time that day, driven by a combination of nerves and excitement.

They hadn't all been in the same place since the job had been completed, each one going their own way. Eames, Yusuf and Arthur passed through the city every now and then, particularly Eames who, Ariadne had decided, was either a regular globe trotter or didn't believe in the stability of a permanent address. Not that she minded his company, quite the contrary, his random appearance in her life during her final year at the university had added just enough spontaneity to keep her from burning out on school.

He wasn't like Arthur, who would call a week before hand, suggest a dinner and a show or a light lunch where they could discus her classes or the happening s of each other's social lives (or their near nonexistence as it were). He was the antithesis of the older thief but she found him easy enough to chat with, though now that she thought about it, their conversations had become a bit awkward as of late, and he had a tendency to fidget a bit, almost as if she made him anxious. She couldn't see him as anxious, particularly since that was a trait so much more befitting her, not the point man, not the one who always seemed so calm and collected, no matter how dire the situation seemed.

She refilled her tea cup and took a sip slowly, enjoying the taste of the Darjeeling, despite the fact that it did nothing for her nerves. That neither she nor Cobb had spoken since the job was a detail she could not seem to forget. And, she decided, the main reason she felt as anxious as she did. If he was nothing else, he was a man with a million secrets, and she had had seen inside the deepest and darkest parts of his mind leaving her with nightmares that would haunt her for a lifetime. No words had been exchanged between them since Limbo, but what was there to say? And as she refilled the cup for the third time, she wondered if they would ever speak of it ever or if they would fall into routine as they had before.

Ariadne had initially chalked his silence up to a combination of arrogant maleness and the overwhelming feeling of being reunited with his children. Both aspects she could understand, she had known enough boys to know it was rare for one to admit when someone who was female and whom they had underestimated had exceeded their expectations. Apparently that was something that didn't change as they got older. Not that she was looking for a pat on the back, no, but acknowledgement that she was a living being and her quick thought process had helped change his life, yes. Eventually she had given up and had made certain that he never came up in conversation when the others came for a visit. Where they working again? Had they found a new architect? These were questions she could not bear to hear the answer to.

Two months before her graduation, hell bent on the notion that Cobb was a prick in every sense of the word and had used her for her talents, only to drop her from his crew at the blink of an eye things changed. Miles had handed her a crisp white envelope at the end of a course and nodded, his eyes and smile all she needed to know whom it was from. Inside the envelope had been a photograph and a white card with two words printed on it;

_Thank you._

The photo had been of a young boy and girl, both with golden locks and bright intelligent eyes. There were no names or dates on the photo nor any signature from the addressee but there didn't have to be. The debt had bed been paid, the silence and being ignored by someone who she had grown to admire that would be pushed aside. They hadn't been working no, there was too much time that needed to be made up for before he ever worked again.

Ariadne had stored the photo and card in a locked drawer on a night stand near her bed and had not looked at either of them since. Now, as she fidgeted waiting for the different men to wander up the street she wished she had. She exhaled slowly and looked up seconds before she was surrounded. The smiling eyes and smug grins that gazed at her washed away any nervousness that remained.

Eames voice rang out, "That, was a long bloody trip. No man should ever be subjected to being crammed in a tin can like that for that long. Especially, if his only company is you lot."

"Please, at least you weren't sitting next to Yusuf, my God, you still smell like alcohol." Arthur folded his arms across his chest.

"Blame him! If it wasn't for him I would never have touched the stuff." Yusuf snarled shooting a death glare at the two other men.

Ariadne couldn't help but smile at the back and forth and rose as they approached. The conversation died off as they saw her waiting for them. Cobb caught her gaze and smiled, "Hello Ariadne, happy graduation." The other three men stopped their bickering and looked in her direction, soft smiles bringing a blush to her cheeks.

"Thanks guys, this means a lot." The anxiety had faded replaced with the feeling of wholeness. There was something she couldn't quite explain, a feeling that being with the four men brought about. She had never had a family, never felt any connections to people that lasted more than a fleeting moment. They were the exception.

Eames stretched and spoke, "Truly our pleasure dear, but if it wouldn't be too much trouble may we proceed to have a cup of tea? True the French don't hold a candle to the British when it comes to afternoon tea but I'm not in a splitting hairs mood."

There was a collective groan of annoyance from the other three men and Ariadne couldn't stifle the chuckle that escaped from her lips. She motioned to the table and they filed in around her. A waitress strolled over and took their orders looking between Ariadne and the others in bewilderment. Ariadne noticed the expression and smiled at the woman knowingly. So she was small and bookish, so what? She was entitled to be surrounded by witty attractive men as much as the next woman.

"So what are your plans now Ari?"

Yusuf's voice brought her back to reality. "Uh, well, to be honest I really don't have a plan yet. Saito said he had a few people in his network that he would introduce me to, but no job promises." She shrugged, "This is the first time in my life where not every minute is restricted to a schedule or a regimen, and I may just go on a vacation for a bit, see some place tropical."

The collective nodded in agreement, sipping their tea or coffee. A silence settled over them for a moment. Ariadne studied each one of them silently. Yusuf appeared to be suffering from a headache of sorts, Arthur was paying far too much interest to the tea cup, Cobb was staring off in the distance and Eames appeared to be enjoying the almond crackers that the waitress had brought a bit too thoroughly. There was an absence of awkwardness, almost as if they had all known each other too long to really care about keeping up appearances. They acted, she decided, as a family would.

"So gifts now or at dinner?" Eames inquired.

"What? You didn't have to bring me anything, really." Ariadne cried.

Eames nodded, "This bloke over here insisted, said it was only right since you worked so hard." Eames was pointing a finger at Cobb who stared back at him coolly.

"Well I guess we can exchange them now," Cobb snarled, "unless Ariadne has any objections." He turned his gaze to her.

"Ah, no but seriously, next time? No gifts." Ariadne could feel the smile pulling at the corner of her lips but did her best to contain the grin.

"Excellent, Arthur first." Eames declared. The point man who had until now had been doing his best to remain unnoticed promptly choked on the coffee he was sipping, an action that made Eames burst into a fit of giggles, an action Ariadne decided, was only befitting because he was Eames.

"Why me first?" the point man growled.

"Because darling your gift is so much more romantic than the rest of us."

Arthur promptly turned the shade of a tomato. Ariadne raised an eyebrow at the exchange but didn't speak taking a moment instead to puzzle exactly what it was that Arthur had gotten her as a gift. He didn't strike her as the romantic type, if anything he seemed quite the opposite. Of course there was always the kiss, though that hadn't been romantic and he had been doing nothing more than seizing opportunity she had decided. And when he had come and visited he had always kept a physical distance between them, his hands usually buried in his pocket or folded behind his back. She was certain their relationship was strictly plutonic but now, she wasn't so sure.

"What is it?" she asked, finally deciding that the bickering had gone on long enough.

Arthur shot Eames a final glare and swallowed hard. He pulled a blue velvet box from his coat and slid it across the table towards her. "It's nothing really."

Ariadne opened the box. Her eyes went wide as she examined the piece of jewelry. She had never been much of one for glitz or glamour but the bracelet was beyond stunning. The feeling of nerves that had disappeared moments before rushed her once more. "I, well…" Words eluded her in that moment; her fingers brushed across the diamonds once more before she closed the box and looked across the table at the point man. He wore a half smile, almost as if he was hanging on her every word. It was an odd situation to have someone of the opposite sex seeking her approval particularly someone like Arthur, someone who she was certain she had figured out after their first encounter. "Thank you," she said at last, and he nodded, his cheeks still tinged pink.

Eames grinned, "Right-o, your turn Dom."

Cobb sighed shaking his head before placing a chess piece on the crumb filled plate resting before Ariadne. She looked at the piece and then at him. He shrugged, "There's a whole set, it's at Miles office, and I'll swing by and grab it before dinner so you can have it later tonight, which was when I was intending to give it to you." He glared at Eames.

Ariadne smiled, "Thank you", she tucked the piece in her bag making certain to keep it separate from her totem.

"All right loud mouth, your turn." Arthur said staring at Eames while rocking back in his chair slightly.

The thief nodded, "Save the best for last that's what I always say." He cleared his throat for dramatics and turned his full attention to Ariadne, "My dear, darling little architect, I your forger and Yusuf, your chemist have acquired for you the ultimate graduation present."

Ariadne couldn't decide whether or not to allow herself to be excited. It was always a risk with Eames who had the same tendency to blow things out of proportion as a teenage girl. She looked over at Yusuf who still appeared to be slightly off kilter but smiley all the same. "What did you guys get me?" she asked at last, trying to keep the caution to a minimum.

Eames slapped his fist down on the table, "A job!"

"A job?" Ariadne felt her pulse quicken. "A real job?" She clenched her fist in her lap, twisting her napkin with excitement. Sure a vacation sounded fantastic but if there was a job offer…

Eames smiled, "An easy job at that."

Ariadne felt the pang of disappointment, "Ah a job not a_ job."_

Eames appeared to realize how he'd misspoken and frowned slightly. "Ah, sorry love, didn't mean to get your hopes up that way."

Ariadne smiled and shook her head. "No, it's all right. It's still a job right? And besides, I've missed it." She looked at the men surrounding her, all of whom she knew could relate to that feeling better than anything else. There was nothing quite like being in the dream, nothing quite like building entire worlds. She sipped her tea and chuckled as the excited nerves returned once more and her mind danced at the prospect of what the mazes would look like this time. They hadn't forgotten about her, hadn't cast her aside as she had so feared. No, they were indeed somewhat like the family she had never had.

A/N: Hello All! So I'm trying to make certain I update once a week but no promises. The schedule isn't too crazy at the moment so it's fairly easy. I struggled with this chapter but I hope that doesn't shine through too much! Thank you for the reviews those of you who take the time to review I appreciate it! I promise more suspense next chapter!

Chapter 3 is brought to you by:

Alice-_Cocteau Twins-_Check it out while your reviewing!


	5. Chapter 4

Paris was the city of love, and no matter how often Cobb tried, he knew he would always remember falling in love there. Memories of Mal lurked around every corner he turned, and though she did not have the grasp on his subconscious that had driven both he and Ariadne down into the depths of Limbo during the Fischer job, she still lingered on the border of his dreams, biding her time. As he stepped up the stone steps into the university he could almost hear her calling at him, beckoning him back into the safety of her arms, away from the task that now sat before him and the crew.

The mood had been light that afternoon. Eames had sold the extraction as an easy enough task for those who were masters of their craft, and Cobb was certain it would be. But there was a feeling in his gut he couldn't shake. If the so-called Mr. Asagi knew about the secret he and the forger had fought so hard to keep hidden, who was to say there were others who didn't know as well? And what was to say the job wasn't a trap? He swallowed hard and pushed the thought away. Now was not the time to focus on the possibilities of what could be, no, not when everything he had gained from the success of the Fischer job would be put at stake.

Cobb shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat and strode into the university's main building to hunt down Miles. Too many years had passed since he'd wander the halls ignorant to the power of dreaming. He could recall a time when his interests had laid only in designing structures that rivaled the antiquated architectures littered throughout Europe. That had changed quickly however; the moment he had shown promise and Miles had shown him how to build within the dreams. He had been hooked in that instant, and reality became lackluster quickly. Dreams were better than the strongest hallucinogen and there was never enough. The sequences would end too quickly, the lack of boundaries; the absence of physics, all of it absorbed him.

And then he met her…

Rumors had swirled amongst those who Miles taught within the dreams, that the professor's daughter would begin attending the university in the spring semester. Cobb had shrugged it off at first but found his curiosity piqued when it came to light she had been given the boot of the Ivy League school back in the states. No one was exactly certain as to why, and no one had the audacity to ask Miles either. Three weeks later a bright eyed, fiery tempered girl with a thick French accent seated herself next to Cobb.

Two years later, she became Mrs. Cobb. He smiled at the memories. Miles had called the two of them insufferable but had thankfully, been content with the match. Mal's mother had not approved, citing Cobb's very American heritage, but she had relented after the birth of Philippa. Of course, everything that had occurred since then had earned Cobb nothing but severe disdain from the older French woman. He sighed aloud and passed Miles' office, heading instead for the classroom at the far end of the building.

He was seated at the front of the classroom as always, his attention turned wholly to what Cobb imagined were the essays he assigned to the first year pupils before the summer. Cobb contemplated coming back at a later time but didn't see one coming available in the near future and opened the door. Miles didn't look up. Cobb knew the man well enough to know he memorized the footfalls of frequent visitors. He scribbled something illegible on the paper and moved it to the bottom of a thick pile before scanning over another one.

"Have I ever told you about the time I took a group of students to Cordoba?" Miles looked up and Cobb smiled. He took a seat in the bottom row, in the exact same spot he had sat when he had been a student.

"To see the mosque, right?"

Miles stood, tapping a fountain pen against his lower lip. "Correct, it was in the spring, right when all the orange trees were blossoming. Quite a lovely sight, if you ever get the chance I would definitely suggest it. Go in the spring however, it is twice as magical then."

Cobb leaned back, "Did someone write a paper about it?"

Miles seemed lost in thought. He chuckled lightly and shook his head. "I had a lovely time that year, met Mal's mother," He deposited a stack of papers in a leather briefcase. "It's our fortieth anniversary this month."

Had Eames been in the vicinity in that moment Cobb was almost certain he'd have strangled him. "What are you planning on doing?" Not watching children, Cobb thought.

"Back to Cordoba I think, true we'll miss the blossoms but I'm sure she will still enjoy it." Miles smiled.

Cobb exhaled, his gut churning madly. He didn't want to ask, didn't want to reassign the role of primary caregiver to his in-laws. But there was no way to avoid the extraction and feel secure. "Do you remember Antoine?"

Miles sat back down, "One of my best pupils that year; you perhaps being the one exception. Though, I never did care for the way he looked at my daughter." He deposited a few more items into the briefcase, "Actually, he was here a few months back, scouting for interns for his design firm supposedly." Miles locked gazes with Cobb and smiled wearily, "And he asked about you."

Cobb tensed slightly. "Did he mention why he was looking for me?"

Miles shook his head, "No. No, he's always quite terse when I see him, I get the sense he still harbors resentment towards me in one way or another for not doting on his ideals. The dreams are not there for us to become kings. Always a pity he couldn't understand that."

Cobb knew the man well enough to know that no level of convincing would ever persuade him otherwise. Antoine craved power and position more than anything else especially now that Mal had passed. He and Cobb had been uneasy friends during their university years. Where Cobb was quick to anger, Antoine was patient, methodical. He had been quieter as well, but, not so much shy as introverted, an attribute Cobb had shared until he had met Mal. He had been too crazy about the woman to ever notice the way the other man had looked at her until it was too late and he found himself fighting not only for his mind but for the woman he loved.

Cobb shook his head dragging himself back to the question that still needed to be asked. "I hate to ask Miles but…"

"What is it this time? What sort of ideas shall you tear from innocent minds this time?"

The words burned more than Cobb had expected. "The minds are hardly innocent, and besides that, it's different this time."

Miles shook his head, "It's always different."

Cobb hesitated, "We think someone found her. And if we don't do this they're going to give her location to Antoine"

Miles shoulders slumped slightly, "After all this time. Sofia, the sleeping beauty will finally be woken to once again wreck havoc."

"Not if we do well. They promised that if the mission is a success then Sofia will stay where she is and Antoine will be none the wiser." Cobb stood and moved down to where Miles was seated, "Trust me, I don't want any part in this. I wanted out. But I can't risk her waking up. I can't risk losing everything again."

Cobb turned and studied the vacant seats of the classroom. He could feel Miles' gaze boring into the back of his head. "Cordoba can wait then I suppose, but please Cobb, walk away after this. And keep Ariadne safe. I still haven't forgiven you entirely for taking my best pupil into the field with you." Miles scooted the chair back once more, gathering his case and coat.

Cobb smiled at the older man. He had cut off contact with the younger girl as best as he could after the inception's success. He had felt horrible for never properly thanking her, particularly since she was the one who had improvised so brilliantly but had decided it was better that way, cleaner. The card and photo had been his only intended contact with her afterwards but when the graduation notice arrived in the mail, neither Arthur or Eames was willing to let him not pay the young architect a visit.

"You hadn't been kidding when you said she was the best. I tried to keep the others away from her so that she could return to a normal life, but well, they never listen anyway. She'll be our architect this time around as well, but if I can I'll keep her out of the field. The only issue is she's fairly stubborn and remarkably convincing."

Miles chuckled, "Like you? Clearly you've finally met your match Dom. I always knew there was great potential in her." He walked up the stairs with Cobb trailing behind. They exited the school in silence and walked to the corner. The afternoon sun was beginning to wane. Cobb would be meeting the others for dinner in an hour. He turned to the professor. Miles always looked older in the sunlight, almost as if stepping out of the university added twenty years.

"Thank you for helping me again, I promise this will be the last time." Cobb shoved his hands deep into his pockets, his fingers twirling the top unconsciously.

Miles nodded, "You owe it to those children and your wife. Though, there is one thing that is bothering me."

Cobb turned, "What is it?"

"After all these years in the deepest darkest corner of Limbo, what's there to say Sofia's mind isn't beyond repair now? Can you imagine how many lifetimes she has seen?"

Cobb could feel a cold chill working up his spine. "Countless I'm certain. With anyone else I wouldn't be concerned but we are talking about Sofia, she was beyond repair before we left her there. If she wakes up she will be angry and I don't trust Antoine's grip enough to believe she won't slip the leash and destroy us all. He may have controlled her then but after four years well…let's just hope we don't have to ever find out."

Miles nodded, "Agreed."

They said their goodbyes as Miles slipped into a small grey sedan. Cobb glided down the street towards his hotel, every nerve in his body on edge. They would succeed; everything and everyone he had ever loved depended on it.

A/N: Shortish chapter. Thank you to those reading and reviewing it has been quite helpful and keeps me going!

Chapter 4 brought to you by the song:

_Heavy in Your Arms-_Florence & The Machine

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	6. Chapter 5

Arthur adjusted his tie once, twice, and then a third time. He wasn't nervous no, a good point man was never nervous. He just had a habit of making certain everything was in perfect order, tie knots included. After the fifth adjustment he sighed, resigned. The others would have said the effort would be wasted anyway. So they never noticed, so what? He still would. Absent mindedly staring into the mirror he pondered if Ariadne would, before shaking his head, banishing the thought before it consumed him.

It had occurred to him earlier that day, when the architect had gazed upon his gift that his effort to suppress the growing attraction to the younger woman was going to be far more difficult than he had originally surmised, and for once, Arthur pondered if he was up to the challenge. He had made an attempt to banter back and forth with Eames and Yusuf, but the words had felt plastic and by the end of the afternoon he had given up on speaking all together. This of course, had resulted in a variety of jabs from Eames on their way to the hotel, and had left Arthurs cheeks red from a healthy combination of embarrassment and ire. He ground his teeth in remembrance, before fastening the buttons on a gray waistcoat.

They had agreed on dinner across the street from the hotel the crew was staying at, with the intent to meet in the bar of the hotel beforehand. Arthur glanced at his wristwatch and frowned. He would be early by at least twenty minutes, prospectively thirty at this rate. Cobb would arrive on time or a minute or two late, while Eames usually strolled in ten minutes after the intended meeting time if they were lucky. Yusuf was a mixed bag as was Ariadne. He pulled on his dinner jacket and stuck his wallet and room key into his pockets. Arthur had not been a big drinker since he had become a point man and could count the number of times he had been drunk since being introduced to Cobb on one hand. The college frat landscape had been the setting during his early twenties, but his quiet demeanor and studious tendencies had meant a life in a dorm room disgustingly sober with a roommate who had been more antisocial than even he could have mustered. Sophomore year however, he discovered poker and made his way to Europe.

Arthur had always avoided side bets, and had made an effort to keep a low profile, far more interested in the game than the fame that came with being the type of player who could take down opponents with overwhelming chip stacks without breaking a sweat. He had done well on the various circuits across the different continents, making enough money to live comfortably and play in the higher stakes games, favoring Stud over games like Hold'em or Omaha. The evening of his twenty-second birthday things had gone horribly wrong however, and he lost not only his winnings, but nearly his life.

"The Event", for that was what he had called it, had happened in a small card room outside of Amsterdam. The locals didn't like foreign players, particularly Americans, but the proprietor of the small card room, desperate for the cash flow, had opened the game to anyone who had the money to afford the buy-in. Arthur had never been to the Netherlands before that night and had only gone back twice since. He had paid the buy-in and taken his seat early, studying the habits of those around him. One could tell a great deal about their opponent based on how they chose to carry themselves or with whom they associated. The night progressed typically, a few bad beats, a few well earned pots, a large enough chip stack by the third break to bully his way to the final table. An hour before the sun was scheduled to rise he went to heads up with the owner of the card room's son, his chip stack towering over his opponent who had been bleeding chips since the final table had commenced.

The crowds had dispersed, leaving behind a thick cloud of cigarette smoke and the scent of body odor. The few other professionals who had been knocked out had made their way back to their hotels leaving Arthur behind with the few locals who still loitered about. The last hour had dragged on, the hazy air leaving him fatigued. He had yawned and pushed, his opponent calling quickly. Arthur had barely acknowledged his opponent's hand, subconsciously noting that he was far behind and that if he did lose it would take quite a few more all-ins before the Dutchmen across from him gained control. He stretched in his chair and watched as his rainbowed hand evolved into a straight, obliterating his opponent's two pair.

Arthur stared at the four of spades that had given him a straight, ace to five indifferently. The payout wasn't huge but he congratulated himself on the win nonetheless. The man across the table had turned the color of a turnip his hands balled into fists. Arthur ignored him rising slowly, shoving his hands into his pockets casually. True, it wasn't the best way to destroy an opponent, and he did feel a little guilty, he found himself far more interested in the prospects of sleep than anything else. Much to his misfortune however, the much taller, much larger man who he had beaten didn't feel quite the same.

He glided to the cash cage to collect his payout only to find the woman who had been present moments earlier had vanished. Seconds later the light from behind him had been blotted out by the men who had surrounded him. It occurred to him in that moment that he was likely going to die. What had happened next came and went as flashes in the deepest and darkest dreams in the years that followed, but he had never been able to recall exactly what occurred. He did remember the feeling of the knife piercing his flesh however, and somehow, three weeks later he had woken up in a Dutch hospital to the great surprise of the nurses who had been overseeing his recovery.

Arthur had never really understood how paralyzing fear could be. He returned to the states after being released, diving back into the books and college. He gave into the desire for booze regularly always walking the fine line between comfortably buzz and numbness. The desire to return to the tables was unbearable and the instructors at the universities he drifted through had come across as white noise. He had stood in the airport with a ticket to Vegas a few times but had never gotten on the flight. At the gate he would freeze and the feeling of the blade in his gut would grip him. A few months would pass and he would do it again.

Time passed slowly, he obtained a degree and then another but the games still haunted him. The Gambler's Anonymous meetings had done little to curb the desire either, and those who he met in the classes always reminded him of those he had played against the night he had nearly died. The week before his twenty-fifth birthday came not with the intent to celebrate but with the knowledge that he was going to be evicted from his apartment. His bankroll had all but run dry. Three years before he had been a man on top of his game, now he had nothing. That week, resigned to being homeless he allowed himself to get sloshed beyond comprehension. The money for rent was spent instead on whiskey. To that day he still couldn't recall exactly how he had stumbled to the airport or exactly what the woman at the counter had been thinking selling him a ticket to Monte Carlo, all he was certain was that the bender hadn't worn off until it was too late and he was well on his way to France.

Arthur didn't believe in fate, there was luck yes, but one was never fated to do anything in his opinion. Eames had to that day, argued otherwise, but he had always brushed the Englishman off. The truth was, it wasn't fate that had driven him back overseas but fear. Fear brought on by booze and the nagging feeling that he had somehow failed. And so it was, with the last few dollars to his name Arthur once again took a seat at a Stud table, hell bent not on making a return to poker, but making enough money to get home and accept the fact that he had let his fear rule him.

He faired well, much to his surprise, and walked away with more money in his pocket than when he started. It had been a small victory, but had felt huge since he hadn't been stabbed. True his eyes were moving every moment, and every nerve in his body was on edge but that seemed a small price to pay. To that day however, he still wondered how he had walked away with the eyes of a certain thief boring into the back of his skull without noticing.

Arthur had wandered about the casino absentmindedly that evening, feeling as if he had been reunited with an old friend. He stumbled to a seat in one of the bars exhausted, debating the prospects of a hotel bed only seconds before he was joined by a slightly larger man dressed in what he could only describe as a gaudy pink shirt with white flowers printed on it. His face was unshaven but that didn't take away from his eyes which sparkled mischievously. He shot Arthur a grin but the younger man made no effort to return the smile, far too engrossed with the idea of a shot before a large bed.

"I must say I was impressed by your play, though I suppose poker is a younger man's game anymore." He motioned for the bar tender but didn't order anything.

"Can I help you with something?" Arthur wasn't in a mood to make small talk with someone he didn't know and as far as he was concerned in that moment, didn't want to know.

The man in the floral shirt extended his palm. "Just hoping to shake your hand lad."

Arthur accepted. His drink arrived and he broke the grip, turning his attention to the bartender. He reached for his wallet and froze. He turned on the stool in time to see his new friend in the floral shirt slipping through the crowds.

"Wait just a moment", he said as the bartender shot him a glare, "My wallet seems to have walked off." Arthur sprang from the seat and pursued his would be robber. The fear that had dictated his every move for the last three years rushed him but he pressed it back, overwhelmed by the rage coursing through his veins. He had come too far now to return to the frightened little man he had been the week before. He caught up to the other man in the elevator, the doors shutting too quickly for either of them to escape.

They stared at each other. Arthur fumed at the smug grin on the other man's face. "That was quite impressive. Thousands of people between that bar and the elevator and you managed to find me. I think Dom would like you."

Arthur didn't know who or what a Dom was and found he didn't care. He swung his fist at the larger man who side stepped the blow with ease. "Bit of fight in you too eh? You'll need to be faster but that's easy enough to teach."

"You stole my wallet." Arthur snarled.

"Oh right, sorry about that." He passed Arthur back his wallet, "The name is Eames, and you're Arthur if I'm not mistaken…"

And that had been the beginning of that. Four years had come and gone quickly. The once panic ridden young man had evolved into a methodical and deadly point man. Eames and Cobb had become the brothers he had never had (but only after he had thoroughly pulverized Eames for stealing his wallet in the first place), forcing him to face the demons that had nearly destroyed him. There was little left in him that could still be paralyzed by fear, and that which could was buried far beneath the rage that he had honed and learned to control quite effectively. He still dabbled in poker every now and then, but the thrill and rush of the game was nothing compared to the rush dreams could have on him.

He studied his reflection in the mirror for another moment and smiled slightly. There was little left of his former self any longer, and though there was always the lingering feeling that he may have given something up by becoming what he now was, the price seemed small compared to the payout. He flipped the light switch as he left the hotel room. Eames was standing in the hall outside his room, a wide grin on his face. Arthur glanced at his watch, "Did we say eight not nine?"

"No, nine," Eames said, falling into stride next to the younger man.

"Well that can't be right; you're not half an hour late yet." Arthur teased.

"Figured I'd mix it up a bit. See how on your game you were."

Arthur raised an eyebrow at the older man's statement before shaking his head. They stepped into the elevator before he spoke again. "So I've been thinking."

"Dangerous as always, but continue."

"We should head back to Monte Carlo after this job. It's been too long." They stepped out into the lobby and made their way to the bar.

"Reminiscing again I see."

Arthur shrugged. "Maybe. Actually, I was thinking we take Ariadne, I bet she'd love it."

Eames nodded stopping just outside the bar. "Well, why not ask her?" He motioned to where she was sitting at the bar. Arthur froze in his steps and studied the young architect for a moment. She was wearing a short black dress, which hugged her lithe form. Her long black hair hung loose around her shoulders framing her face that wore a contented expression.

Arthur felt a rush of fear, a feeling that had become foreign to the ever confident point man. No she wouldn't be stabbing him, just smiling at him. He wouldn't die he reminded himself; though there was a chance he would embarrass himself which almost seemed worse. "Maybe I will," he mumbled to his fellow thief.

Eames nodded, "Well go on then." He shoved Arthur slightly and stepped back.

Arthur swirled on his heel, "Aren't you coming?"

"Oh, I'll catch up darling, Yusuf and I have an errand of sorts before dinner."

Arthur felt his mouth go dry. He had been alone with Ariadne on enough occasions. Hell, he'd come and visited her a few times by himself since the Fischer job had been completed. He turned and glanced at her again. Her gaze was focused forward, and she had not noticed the ruckus that he and Eames had been making only a yard or so away. Arthur turned to protest at the older man once more but he was gone. "Damnit," he muttered. He took in a breath and composed himself as best he could before striding into the bar towards the younger woman. If he did not die of embarrassment before dinner he would kill Eames, maybe twice if he got the chance.

A/N: So this chapter was meant to go one way and when I turned around I had a back story written. For the record I have nothing against Amsterdam or the Dutch, I was looking through a list of European casinos and just happened to click that one. Arthur's story is partially based on something that happened to an actual professional poker player in Milan. Anywho, thank you for those who read and review, and if anyone out there in Internet land knows a guy who knows a guy that's looking to beta a fic would you let me know please? Also, there will be a bit of A&A for fans of that in the next chapter!

This chapter brought to you by:

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	7. Chapter 6

Ariadne sat alone in the bar, her eyes focused forward, her gaze roving over the various bottles of alcohol she had never tasted and most likely never would. She had seen a fair amount of small pubs or bars that catered to university students, but had never been the type of girl to venture into fancy hotels before she had met Cobb. No, where one could curl up in a dark corner with a stack of books and a pint of cheap beer in an establishment like that, it would certainly be inappropriate in a bar in a hotel that was as fancy as this one. She sipped her wine feeling far more self conscious than she was accustomed to before exhaling in an effort to calm her nerves.

Her life had not changed as dramatically as she had assumed it would after the completion of the Fischer job, however, there were still things that _had_ changed. Saito had been quite generous with the payment for the successful Inception and Ariadne's cut had been enough to not only pay off her student loans in their entirety, but had allowed her for the first time in her brief life to indulge on items that had once been off limits. The short black dress that hugged in places that made her appear womanly had not been the first purchase. The stilettos which made her legs look miles long had been bought an hour beforehand and the dress had merely complimented them. It had been wonderful to indulge for the first time in her short existence and as she sat sipping her wine she feared that she would become quite used to fabrics like cashmere and silk.

Of course there had been one issue that she had not been prepared for. As it was, Ariadne had never been the type of young woman to parade around in short dresses or high heeled shoes and walking in the pair of proverbial stilts had proven far more difficult than she had initially imagined. She had met plenty of French women who made it look quite easy however, the few blocks between her flat and the hotel had been one comprised of skittering, stumbling and building clinging. She had been silently thankful that she had arrived in the bar well before anyone else and had made a mental not to be certain to trail behind the rest of the crew when they ventured across the street for dinner. The last thing she wanted was to stumble in front of them and receive instructions on how to walk in heels from Eames, whom she was quite certain, had a few pointers on swagger and hip movement. She blushed at the thought of the conversation and took a healthy gulp of her wine.

Ariadne had always counted herself amongst the awkward crowd growing up, her interests in school and her studies far outweighing her interests in fashion and an effort to woo the opposite sex. When she had ventured across seas she had hoped to leave the shy girl who over thought every situation from high school behind but things had not changed upon entering the university. Sure there were people whom she had called friend but the title had been assigned to all the other upper middle class Americans who had somehow found their way to Paris as well, and had chosen to align themselves freshman year with those who shared a similar cultural background.

…She hadn't lasted five minutes.

Not that Ariadne was socially inept, no; she just didn't get along well with those in her own age bracket all that effectively. And there was her priority list that always got in the way. It had always been fairly befuddling to her why someone would enter into a program focused on architecture when one had little interest in architecture. There had been several of those in her class, many of whom had either faded away as the course grew more difficult or adapted. She had thrived where many had struggled and those who had once casually called her friend now called her rival or show off. In the long run the life at the university had mirrored high school and Ariadne found herself on the outside, awkward and unsure. Then the professor had introduced her to Cobb and she had found her place.

Genuine friendships had grown out of the Fischer job and for the first time, Ariadne allowed herself to indulge in the company of others, unafraid of what they thought of her. They had judged her at first, of that she was certain, but she had proven herself and now they treated her like their equal. Except Cobb, he still held her at arm's length, and despite his gift Arthur seemed to be growing more distant with each encounter. Her stomach did a flip when she gazed at the diamond bracelet that hung around her fragile wrist and the prospects that he would soon begin avoiding her in much the same manner Cobb did. Then what? Would Eames and Yusuf stop passing through on their adventures? Would she be back to the lonely awkward girl she had been only months before? She shook her head, pushing back the fear. No, there was nothing to worry about, she was being nervous for nothing right? She polished off her wine as the bartender was passing by motioning him for a refill before he could scuttle away.

Fear wracked her form. She folded her arms in her lap and exhaled in an effort to cool her nerves. The others would be along soon and she decided it would be best to shelve her qualms for after the job. Tonight was about celebrating she reminded herself. After all, one did not graduate college in Paris everyday. She leaned back into the wooden back of the stool and closed her eyes only to have the sound of a throat clearing catch her attention.

Arthur stood on her right, his hands shoved deeply into his pockets. Ariadne offered a slight smile and spoke, "Can I buy you a drink?" She motioned to the seat next to her and his shoulders relaxed slightly.

"You're early," he said, motioning for the bartender.

Ariadne traced the stem of the wine glass, "Yeah, accident. I thought we said eight. Only after twenty minutes of sitting here I remembered we had actually said nine."

Arthur chuckled lightly, "Eames was outside my door a few minutes ago, and so I thought eight as well for a moment." Ariadne looked around not noticing the change in Arthur's expression, "He's not here if you're wondering. He said he had an errand of sorts to still take care of." She never noticed the slight slump in his shoulders.

"Maybe something for the next job?" she offered.

Arthur shook his head, "Doubtful. I think I noticed a pub that offers Off Track Betting nearby."

"Ah, priorities, I should have guessed." Ariadne said, sipping her wine. A silence fell between them. Ariadne could think of nothing to say and Arthur who was already unseasonably quiet was staying quite tight lipped as well. She wanted to ask him if everything was all right, if he and Cobb still valued her as a team member, as a friend since that seemed to be the domineering idea as of late. But she had never been the type of girl who strived for the acceptance of others and the nagging feeling that they would value her less if the question was presented, seemed quite likely. So, instead she exhaled and glanced around the bar at its other patrons, never once noticing that the point man was studying her out of the corner of his eye.

"I know we asked this earlier today, but, in all seriousness, what are you going to do now?" Arthur had half turned to face her now, his expression guarded at the best. "You couldn't have been serious when you said you were going to take a vacation."

Ariadne felt her jaw go slack but recovered quickly, "Why not? I deserve a vacation after all my hard work."

Arthur nodded, "You do but I know time off is the last thing on your mind."

Ariadne felt her cheeks turn slightly pink, "Well, I don't know what I'm going to do now. I know what I want to do but…" She stopped herself short.

"The consequences far outweigh the benefits." Arthur mused. He thanked the bartender who deposited a drink in front of him that Ariadne was unfamiliar with.

She shrugged, "Regardless, it's the only thing I ever think about anymore."

"It's not an honest way to make a living." Arthur polished off his drink and motioned for a second.

"I'm merely the architect. What I do isn't dishonest."

Arthur chuckled slightly, "Your predecessor said something similar. Then he betrayed us."

"So that explains that then." She finished off her wine for the second time and the bartender refilled her glass once again. Warmth was spreading through her limbs and the inhibition she had felt only moments earlier was beginning to wane. "You don't trust me. You and Cobb think I'm going to betray you." Arthur seemed taken aback by this. He studied his glass quietly for a moment. Ariadne felt a well of emotion course through her, each moment feeling like a lifetime. "I'm right aren't I?" She shook her head. "I wasn't in this for the money; you of all people should know that," She spat.

Arthur cringed, "We don't think you're going to betray us Ari. Hell, Nash would have sold Cobb out before following him down into Limbo. Cobb made a promise to Miles not to involve you too deeply that's all. You were braver than any of us. We trust you, far more than any other architect we've ever worked with."

"Then why has he avoided me? Why have you become so distant?"

Arthur shrugged, "He wanted you to have a shot at a normal life I guess. If you stayed in contact then others would learn about you. Most extractors don't have Cobb's moral code. It was better to attempt to make a clean break then watch you be corrupted for him."

Ariadne stared at the murky red wine, "Then why is he here?"

Arthur chuckled lightly, "Because there was no way I was going to let him skip this. It's not every day one of your own accomplishes something this fantastic."

Ariadne shrugged, "I guess, but then, what's your excuse?"

Arthur's brows furrowed together, "I'm sorry?"

"You used to come and visit me, and then you stopped, why?" No one had ever accused Ariadne of skirting around questions, particularly after a few glasses of wine, when inhibition had a tendency to take a backseat to whatever it was that was on her mind in that exact moment.

Arthur fidgeted slightly, "I well…" a light blush rose in his cheeks. "It's just that, I figured you were busy with school and your friends and I didn't want to be a nuisance." He glanced at her for a brief moment before looking back at his drink.

Ariadne had always felt fairly perceptive individual, "I think we both know you were never a nuisance. So what's the real reason?" She hated wheedling him but there was something fairly satisfying watching someone who was always so calm and confident squirm about.

It had occurred to the young architect at some point early in her training that the ever confident point man was prone to staring when he thought no one was watching. Ariadne had never understood why it was he chose her for his observations. What someone like Arthur could see in someone like her was beyond comprehension. He was well put together, secure with who he was and even slightly arrogant at times. She on the other hand was a proverbial wreck of an individual who had a tendency to be highly uncertain in all areas of her life save for work, be consistently late, and despite best efforts always appear even slightly disheveled.

She had become even more confused after the kiss but had written it off as someone acting on opportunity. She had met and dated enough Parisians to know that when most men were given an inch they would happily take a mile. Arthur had taken an inch and that had been it. Why exactly she couldn't figure out. The question had been nagging at her for months now despite her best effort to let it go. Had the kiss meant nothing? Had it been an invitation for something more? Had her tendency towards shyness in the few visits he had made since the Fischer job warded him off? She wanted to ask but feared his answer.

She shook her head. She would wait until after the job to ask exactly what had possessed him in that moment on that dreamscape. There was no point in instilling added awkwardness since they would be working together in the coming weeks. She finished her third glass of wine, settling contently into the warm buzz that made her feel far more relaxed than she was used to. She smiled at Arthur who smiled back slightly, "You're drunk aren't you?"

Ariadne shook her head, "No, slightly buzzed yes, but it's my night and if I choose to have a few glasses of wine then so be it. I'll feel fine after dinner anyway."

As if on cue, Arthur's pocket began to vibrate. He pulled out the phone and studied the message before frowning and shoving it back into his pocket. "Well, it appears it's just us. Cobb got held up doing something and Eames is trying to drag Yusuf away from an apothecary a few blocks away."

"Well then, should we pay our tab and venture across the way, or just eat here?"

Arthur shrugged, "Your night, your decision."

Ariadne considered her shoes and the prospects of venturing across the road. Deciding that the few glasses of wine she had consumed would probably not help her balance she grinned and shrugged, "I'm sure the food here is just fine."

Arthur nodded. He motioned for the bartender, "We'd like a place in the dining room if possible."

The bartender motioned across the bar towards the lobby. A young waitress came by a moment later and led them off. Ariadne walked carefully, a few steps behind Arthur, promising herself that she would never buy a dress quite so short or shoes quite so tall ever again. The thought was cut short however, as the heel of her left stiletto slipped on the tiled floor, snapping loudly before sending her tumbling into the point man. Her head slammed into the middle of his back knocking both of them onto the ground. The waitress who had been leading the way had skittered a few feet ahead before the crash and was now studying them.

Ariadne prayed the heavens would open up and she would be struck dead before she had to meet Arthur's gaze. She made a mental note to limit her wine intake whenever the notion to dress in clothes that were uncharacteristic struck her, but the effort seemed a bit late. Arthur had moved off the floor and had lifted her out the shoes before depositing her back on the ground; she kept her face covered by her hands, not allowing herself to look into his eyes.

"I think we'll be ordering room service. I apologize for the inconvenience but you should tell your manager to buff his floors more often, lest someone else trips." Arthur growled.

Ariadne felt a grip on her arm; she lowered her hands but didn't dare look up at Arthur who was leading her to a bank of elevators. He pressed the button but remained silent leading her through the one that opened. He pressed the button for the floor of his room. Ariadne glanced at him. His nose was bleeding slightly and his expression made cold fear run up her spine. Halfway up, he turned to face her.

Ariadne felt her jaw go slack, "I'm so, so, so sorry." The fall had killed her buzz and his look of displeasure he wore made her stomach churn.

He offered her back her shoes which were now quite ruined. "Not your fault. You didn't break the heel, the damned floor did." Arthur pulled a handkerchief from inside his sport coat and pressed it to his still bleeding nose. "Are you all right?" Ariadne nodded. Arthur shook his head laughing, "This is Eames fault. I'm going to kill him, I swear it."

Ariadne looked at him with confusion, "How's this his fault? I mean, unless this is a dream and he can turn himself into a treacherous piece of tile…"

Arthur shook his head, "Not a dream, just a poor attempt at playing matchmaker."

"What?" Ariadne cried.

Arthur shrugged, "It's complicated."

Ariadne, once again began praying for death only to sigh resigned. "Is that why you've been acting so distant, because Eames is trying to set us up?"

He shook his head, "Eames only caught wind of things yesterday. I have been distant because I didn't want to distract you from your schooling and that's the honest truth, and because I thought Cobb may have been on to something by giving you a chance at a normal life."

"Then why did you come?"

"Because I remembered when you came back after your first encounter with Mal, and I know what it feels like to dream, and I know that you would have sought out other extractors in the long run. We can't protect you if we abandon you, and as I said, not everyone in this field has the same moral code as Cobb. Plus, I've seen what you're capable of and I'd rather work with you then end up working against you. As for the matchmaker part, I didn't want to say anything because we have to work together and I didn't want it to become awkward. I was going to mention something after the job…"

"But since I decided to biff it and tackle you downstairs in front of a bunch of people. Well I guess you've got nothing left to lose."

Arthur laughed aloud, and smiled, "My thought process exactly. I think Cobb would argue that someone has finally knocked some sense into me. He'd be proud of you." Ariadne's mind rushed in a variety of different directions. He reached out and caught her free hand in his, the diamonds on the bracelet catching the elevator light "After everything is done with this job I'd like to take you out Ariadne. A real date if that would be all right."

Ariadne wanted to ask him why. Why her? She couldn't have possibly been his type there was no way. But her words were caught in her throat and the look of uncertainty he tried to hide behind the smile made her ponder exactly how confident the point man with the bloody nose actually was. "After were done I would be happy to go on a date with you." She recognized her voice but the words felt foreign at best. Arthur released her hand and seemed both relieved and nervous at the same time. The elevator stopped and the door opened. They stepped into the hall, both minds racing in a thousand different directions all at once. Ariadne would be breaking her rule of dating a coworker but perhaps that would be all right this one time.

A/N: Chapter 6 in which someone needs to tell Ariadne to get out of her own way or what not. Clearly having his head bounced off a tile floor knocked some sense into Arthur I just hope he doesn't get any blood on that nice sports coat of his. This chapter was difficult to write because I can't write sexual tension to save my life :( Of course I look forward to writing Eames laughing at the story and perhaps teaching Ari how to walk in heels. Guess we'll see.

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	8. Chapter 7

Eames moved down the darkened street quickly, zigging and zagging around the different individuals he passed by. If things were going according to plan, then the thick air of awkwardness between Ariadne and Arthur was likely suffocating every other guest in the hotel. He chuckled lightly, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. He would call Arthur in a few minutes and make up an excuse as to why the rest of the crew would not be joining the point man and the architect for dinner. Cobb had sent him a text a few minutes after they had parted ways saying something about ulterior plans and Yusuf, who was now quite recovered from Vegas, had wandered off to meet with other people in their industry who showed interested in purchasing a few vials of compounds he'd been perfecting. This left the thief to his own devices and he was more than happy to see what it was the city had to offer. He was reluctant to miss watching the usually calm and collected Point Man squirm about under the gaze of such a pretty girl but first dates were better without third wheels. Plus, the city called to him, tugged at recollections he had tried to suffocate but could never truly extinguish.

Paris was where it had all begun and it seemed, no matter how many times he tried to leave that city behind he always managed to end up back there. With the exception of the few weeks before the Fischer job Eames had stayed away for a four year stint and even now, he caught himself pausing every few steps to lose himself in memories of a time that felt lifetimes past. Even now he still wasn't entirely certain what it was that had made him agree to help Cobb on the Fischer job. He had written all emotion off and decided the lack of funds as of late had been the driving force, but it had been something else as well. Perhaps a desire to rekindle and reminisce with a city he loved dearly for a few days, or perhaps an urge to work with those half competent in his chosen field.

He had first been introduced to dreaming during his days in the military. Eager to climb rank quickly he volunteered to be a test subject for the PASIV device but had no idea exactly what it was he was getting himself into. The sequences had been set up for combat training, pitting soldiers against not only each other but their subconscious minds as well, something none of the original test subjects had been prepared for. Of the fifty original test subjects, forty five were quickly released from the program followed closely thereafter by a discharge, their minds no longer capable of grasping the difference between the dream world and the real world. He was amongst the five who had been able to excel in the program.

Forgery came for him by accident during a simulation module one day, and the next thing he knew, he was working special operations for MI6, diving deep into the minds of diplomats from countries he had known little about a few years earlier. It wasn't long before he became the best in the country. But when it came time to walk away, there wasn't a list of job offers on the table like there was for most of his colleagues. Instead it was a random contract here or there many of which weren't precisely what one could qualify as highly moral or legal. So, the gent who had once possessed a full name and an address in the motherland evolved into a thief with multiple names and a criminal record which he imagined now likely stretched longer than the English Channel.

And though most of the cons he was running didn't involve dreaming or forging he found his past hard to let go of. Before long he began chasing rumors of those called Extractors but they were ghosts by the time he caught up with them. Finally, presented with a legitimate job in Paris, he gave up on his hunt and made his way to the city. It was there they found him.

He smiled as he passed the club which had been closed a few years prior but had been alive the night Mal had caught his gaze and Antoine had shook his hand. The crew had been different then, the air more tense and the tempers far more volatile. Sure Arthur could be snappish and Cobb still flew off the handle in the midst of error, but he was nothing like he had been, and Patrick the former Point Man made Arthur seem kitten like. Not that he could hold a flame to the skill of their surly Point Man now, no, Patrick had not been as thorough and in the early days it had cost them a few times over. And it was because of the careless Point Man that they chose to spare his life instead of dispose of him as the contract had ordered.

The sedative had been in a gin and tonic, and the woman who had bought it for him had nodded and smiled a smile so disarming, the former MI6 agent had taken a sip without a second thought. It was only after that he realized exactly what had been in that drink, after he had closed his eyes and reopened them waiting for a subway train. He chided himself in his carelessness and preceded through the train station his heart beating far more rapidly than was normal. He had boarded the train and moved about as if the dream was not a dream at all, his gaze roving about for the dreamer, his projections moving around him like a security blanket. They were skilled; he knew that but they had underestimated him. These were his projections true, but he knew that the woman who stood behind him, looking far too intently at the folded newspaper had been the same one who had bought him the drink and not a product of his subconscious.

The train stopped and he fought his way through the crowd, his features melting away. Eames no longer looked like Eames but now resembled a shorter Asian man with a receding hairline and a potbelly. The projections took no note and carried on, his reflection the only thing giving him away. He moved to a bench and took a seat, removing the newspaper folded in his briefcase, glancing over it indifferently, while half watching for those who moved about in patterns different than projections. But they had been better than he had anticipated and Mal and the man Antoine had found him before he had been able to spot them. The sound of a gun being cocked made the projections freeze but the air had settled and they had carried on as if nothing odd had occurred.

"Shoot me," he murmured, his disguise melting away. "All I'll do is wake up. And I promise you this, when I do you are dead."

Mal had chuckled at that, "Do you really think so Mr. Eames? There are six of us and only one of you. I've heard a rumor that you were a gambler but not suicidal. One of our men is watching you sleep right now, if you wake up and try anything he'll shoot you dead."

It was then that three others showed themselves. Eames swallowed hard, he didn't have to ask who it was that had sent him, he had lost count of how many people he'd stolen from in the past few years, how much information he had swirling about in his mind that could condemn a variety of powerful individuals, it was only a matter of time before one of them actually found him. There were more than a hundred bounties on his head, and the last he had heard the current going price was dead or alive "Tell me," he said, the gun still pressed against his temple, "If you're here to kill me as I assume you are, then what's the purpose of the dream?"

He heard the gun cock and the man standing next to Mal speak, "Ours was a private contract Mr. Eames. It seems there is a Mr. Thomas who wants you dead for exposing some of the business affairs he conducts on the side. He contacted a member of my team looking for an extractor who could find out exactly how much information on him you had and then instructed us to have our assassin destroy your mind. However, I suspect Mr. Thomas may have dipped his sticky fingers into my company's finances and I've decided to give you a choice." He circled around the front of the bench and caught Eames' gaze. "Tell me what I want to know and I let you keep your sanity." The man motioned to where the three others were standing."Or I let my assassin have her way with you."

Eames looked over at the others. The gentleman who stood in between the two women was Cobb. He had been different then, quieter, willing to let Antoine do the talking though Eames was never certain why. The team was far quicker to follow Cobb than Antoine who had a tendency to leave Eames feeling as if he needed a shower after any conversation. The blonde woman who had been standing at Cobb's left had been Sofia. Sitting on the bench in the subway station Sofia didn't strike him as much more than a child. Her eyes were wide, her figure tiny and her long blonde hair feathery, striking him as cute, more like a small fuzzy animal then the monster she actually was. Assassins, he had later learned, came in a variety of shapes and sizes and as it were, the cutest kittens often had the sharpest claws.

Though he was thankful she had never dug her proverbial claws into him, he had seen the damage she could do, had seen a few of their marks left as little more than zombies, memories forgotten, all emotion erased. She was a stoic individual, rarely speaking unless spoken to unless it was to him. Though he had not known it at the time, Antoine was the only person she would take orders from. His appearance had changed that rule, and the tiny blonde clung to his every word and protected him fiercely when they went into the field. He regarded her with affection but kept a safe distance all the same. It was only later; when the team fell apart, when Antoine's jealousy had allowed Sofia to slip her leash did she realize that Eames did not share the same feelings she did. It had cost their then Point Man his life and had almost meant the destruction of Cobb but the woman who had been standing at Cobb's right that night in the dream subway station had saved him.

Marcella was a tall lanky woman with cropped black hair, boyish features and dark eyes, who Eames had learned, was a chain smoker that could drink him under the table with little effort. She had her hands shoved into her pockets ninety five percent of the time, her eyes boring into his skull over the thick black rims of eyeglasses challenging him to make inquiries so that her biting retorts might actually cut into his thick skin.

Antoine had referred to her as a Memorist. Her purpose was to dig up memories that individuals had locked so deeply that only remnants usually remained. She had been a psychologist in her former life, before having to turn to ulterior motives of finance from an accrued poker debt. As it turned out, dream sharing tended to be a bit more lucrative than therapy. There was more to her however, something only he and Cobb knew. She was the yin to Sofia's yang. The mind was a puzzle according to Marcella, and though the puzzle could be shattered into thousands of pieces, it could be reassembled as well.

He had given Antoine the information that he requested that night and the tiny blonde assassin had destroyed the Mr. Thomas who had hired them in the first place. As it turned out, the one person you didn't cross was Antoine. He was an heir to a European architectural firm. Extracting was somewhat of a hobby, and having the cover of a huge company kept him and those who worked with him off of Interpol's radar. Mal had offered Eames a spot with their team then, and despite his early reservations, a steady paycheck and working with the best there was to offer in his field had been too tempting to pass up. But all good things come to pass eventually, and less than two years after meeting Antoine, Mal and the others in the subway station, the crew had fallen apart.

Patrick had turned up dead on their doorstep one day, his throat slashed and a bullet in his brain the signature belonging to Sofia. She had disappeared a few weeks earlier, and Antoine had denied knowing how or why she had done what she had done. The only thing that was agreed upon was that she had to be found before she murdered again. A month later she showed up on Mal and Cobb's doorstep her bullet missing Cobb's heart by inches before turning to Mal. Marcella had subdued her only seconds before her gun went off again, missing Mal entirely. Marcella had attempted to interrogate her but she refused to give them the information she asked for. Mal had wanted her dead, didn't care who it was she had betrayed them for but Marcella had coaxed her away, convinced her to spend the day with her husband at the hospital. Eames had arrived then. Sofia's spitting nature changed, the snarl left her voice when she saw him and her body went limp.

Every question asked then she answered offering up more details. Antoine had ordered her to destroy Cobb's mind, leave him in a vegetative state, but act with caution so that none of the others would discover exactly who it was that had done it to him. Unfortunately, Patrick had caught wind of Antoine's plan and before Sofia knew what had occurred she had killed him. Fearing that she would disappoint Antoine she decided to kill Cobb and end her own life in the act. She hadn't been counting on Mal being home or Marcella's interference. Cobb would live of course, and he would confront Antoine on the act in due time. The question remained however, what to do with the tiny blonde assassin?

Mal had wanted her dead, had offered to pull the trigger herself but Cobb had convinced her otherwise. Instead they would see to it that she could cause harm to no one ever again. Eames betrayed her then. It had been decided that she would be left in the depths of her subconscious; her mind locked away, her body comatose. It wouldn't be death but close enough to leave a very pregnant Mal satisfied and a recovering Cobb guilt free.

Eames had gone into the dreams with her then, had looked into her eyes, had told her everything was going to be all right, had let her kiss him only to press a gun into her chest and pull the trigger. He had chosen somewhere sunny, had told her that she wasn't dreaming, that he had taken her to see Italy, to see her home. He had lied to her, had looked into her trusting eyes and told the greatest untruth he had ever told. She asked him why, asked him if he loved her and when he said no she had lunged at him, her dying body too weak to fight back, the pull of darkness letting him sidestep her attempts to reach him. He pulled the trigger a second time kicking him out of the dream world while sending her deep into the darkness of her own subconscious. She wouldn't wake up; she would stumble deep into Limbo instead where she would remain. Marcella had stripped her of her totem before sedating her. They had left her in a hospital in the middle of America, somewhere Antoine would never find her. Eames had swallowed his guilt and reminded himself that it was better this way, she wouldn't harm anymore people, innocent or otherwise.

Marcella had warned him against being over confident, had told him that if she ever did wake up, every managed to climb her way out of Limbo, those feelings of affection that she had felt towards him would likely be replaced by a hatred and rage unlike anything he had ever experienced. Hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn and even if she lived a thousand lifetimes Sofia was unlikely to forget him telling her that he didn't love her.

To that day it still managed to send a chill up his spine. Though Sofia didn't haunt his subconscious and he had not dreamt of her in a few years, he still feared what would become of him, become of Cobb or Marcella if she ever woke up. Something heavy fell on his shoulder and he inhaled, pulling the knife hidden inside his coat free and pressing it to the throat of his assailant before his eyes came into focus. Yusuf withdrew his hand slowly and stared at the forger wide eyed.

"Everything all right?"

Eames replaced the knife and grinned, "Sorry surprised me that's all."

"Uh, huh I was shouting your name across the street. Daydreaming in the middle of the night man? If you were anyone else I'd be worried."

"Blah, blah, blah, don't play the concerned parent now Yusuf, I'm too hungry to deal with your fussing."

Yusuf folded his arms, "More concerned for my own life than yours thank you. Are we still meeting Cobb and the others?"

Eames shook his head and grinned broadly before shoving his hands into his pockets, "Figured we'd let our little Ari turn our darling Arthur into a squirming wreck tonight. Come on, there's a lovely little pub down the road here, offers off track betting and fantastic noshes." He started off before Yusuf could protest, forcing the memories back down. Now was not a time to fret over Sofia for she would not awaken again, even if it meant his own life.

A/N: Sorry for the long delay! The last two months have been comprised of utter insanity and I won't lie this chapter was pretty tough to write. Updates should become fairly regular again. Bit O' backstory with introductions of OCs dun, dun, dun! Please be gentle!

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	9. Chapter 8

Morning came with thick grey clouds and the promise of a shower on the graduation ceremony. Arthur studied the sky before checking his watch. The air was thick and muggy making him happy he'd chosen not to wear a tie that day. It had been decided that the crew would meet at the university, sit together through the graduation and then proceed to the warehouse afterwards. Arthur had been concerned about whether or not Ariadne would be willing to forsake the opportunity for a celebration with her peers after they collected their diplomas, or to meet with family but she had shrugged such ideas off citing her anxiety to get to work building as soon as possible. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers, shaking his head at her incorrigibility towards their craft as he walked down the street.

The air of awkwardness had shifted after their collision in the lobby the evening before. It had not occurred to Arthur that Ariadne could harbor feelings similar to his own, and now that he knew so a thick knot had formed in his gut. It wasn't that he wasn't quite ecstatic that their friendship could now begin moving into the romantic zone, no, that idea seemed quite thrilling, but he feared the repercussions of becoming romantically involved with a coworker. True that Ariadne was young and the attraction could be fleeting, he told himself he was prepared for such a thing. It was the idea of something terrible happening to her on a job that frightened him. Mal and Cobb had been in love, had worked together, look how well that had turned out?

He exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and chided himself for once again comparing his prospective relationship to that of Cobb's. There were a thousand and one differences between him and Cobb, never mind the near black and white of Mal and Ariadne. What was more, he was certain there were other couples in their field of work who carried on just fine. He relaxed his shoulders despite the weight of nerves in his belly as he approached the university. Eames and Yusuf had parked themselves on the stone steps out front. Yusuf was looking over Eames' shoulder onto a Blackberry screen, neither acknowledging Arthur until he cleared his throat.

"Yeah all right, hold on then." Eames grumbled. His fingers which seemed too thick for the Qwerty keys moved with deft precision, leaving Arthur to ponder precisely what it was that made the little phone so interesting.

"He's reached a new level on Brick Breaker," Yusuf volunteered; his tone far more enthusiastic than Arthur felt a cell phone game warranted. Arthur massaged the bridge of his nose and counted back from ten before stepping passed them.

"I'm going to find a seat, make sure you too idiots make it in before the ceremony starts." Yusuf nodded absently and Arthur shook his head suppressing the desire for further verbal assault. He strolled through the foyer of the school, glancing at the myriad of quotes written on the walls, some in French the occasional in English. Tiny models of buildings created by former students were encased in glass along a far wall and he found himself pondering if Cobb or Mal had ever constructed anything worthy enough to be saved by their former university, or, for that matter, if anything Ariadne had ever built would wind up here, become an artifact in due time, a picture and blurb about the petite architect the only remnant of her ever existing some thousand years from then. Arthur thought her talents worthy; even Cobb and Miles saw her for what she was, what was there to say others didn't as well?

It was that thought that sent a cold chill down his spine briefly paralyzing him where he stood.

Arthur swallowed and forced himself to continue into a garden where chairs were set up in rows beneath a stage that also housed a handful of chairs and a podium. He pondered how many others in their field came in search of gifted architects, for he was certain Cobb wasn't the only one. A good architect was hard to come by, never mind one who wouldn't stab you in the back the moment things went sour. Ariadne had shown them a level of loyalty her predecessor Nash couldn't have mustered on a good day. She was valuable and she had worked with them because she wanted to. There was nothing to say she would or would not want to work with other teams, but then again, considering her stature, there was nothing to say the wrong people would offer her much of a choice. Arthur felt a surge of possessiveness pass through his chest and he found it difficult not to hunt her down in that moment, scoop her up and hide her away where no other Pointman would ever find her. He quelled his desires reluctantly, reminding himself that he could not protect her if he was frightened of the consequences of becoming romantically involved with her.

A few alumni were scattered about the courtyard chatting idly. He noticed Miles in a corner, dressed in a black robe with a cap and gold tassel. He didn't pay Arthur any heed. The Pointman pondered if Cobb had spoken to his father-in-law about the job he had been roped into, pondered if he had noticed his entrance and was offering up a cold shoulder as his response to pulling the father of his grandchildren back into the dream business. Arthur considered walking over and speaking to him but hesitated at the last moment and took a seat instead. It would be inappropriate now, he thought. Today, after all, was supposed to be a happy day.

Other guests began to filter in around him and the folding chairs filled up quickly. Eames and Yusuf had scuttled in chatting excitedly about the cell phone game which made Arthur roll his eyes. Cobb never joined them but Arthur was unfazed. This building, these people, they meant more to him than they did to the other members of the crew. A strange sense of longing possessed Arthur for a moment, a sense that he himself, could not recall a time in his existence when he belonged somewhere else the way Cobb did. Never when he was playing cards was there such a sense, never when he was studying, and for that matter, hardly when he was dreaming. He licked his lips as the sound of students filing in pulled him from his reverie.

He spotted Ariadne immediately. Her dark hair hung around her face, curled slightly at the ends. Her gaze was focused forward and her hands hung at her sides, the diamond bracelet he had gifted her secured on her left wrist. Arthur felt a wave of heat wash over him. She was desirable in her own unique way. He could recall times in the past when he had paid her a visit and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He had met plenty of people who could carry on about obscure subjects but Ariadne was the queen. A random observation or a comment could send her down a deep winding path about origins and facts Arthur could never have fathomed. There was a quiet strength about her he noticed as well, something he was certain Cobb must have noticed. But there was a level of insecurity there that he was certain probably came with any female her age. She feared loneliness, feared the idea of being rejected not so much by the opposite sex as by her peers, for he was certain that was how she viewed the crew.

He glanced away from her momentarily and looked back over at Eames and Yusuf who seemed at best, only half interested in the ceremony. He knew they viewed her as an equal otherwise he doubted they would have so quickly forfeited their vacation in Vegas to be there. He peered through the crowd searching for Cobb once more but to no avail. The extractor was different. True, he had no doubt in her abilities, but there was something about her that seemed to get under his skin. It had taken a sincere amount of bravery to dive deep into Limbo with him, and though he was certain Cobb had been grateful, there still seemed to be something that kept him from viewing her as his equal, something that forced him to hold her at an arm's length. Perhaps, Arthur finally decided, it was his sincere distrust for Architects, or perhaps, as he had assumed a few months earlier, she knew more about the extractor's mind than even he or Eames did.

A professor at the podium began to speak with a thick French accent that Arthur found difficult to interpret. He didn't have to look over at his side; he could already tell that Eames and Yusuf had been lost to the ceremony, though he was silently thankful that the thief had been considerate enough to silence his phone and Yusuf was trying with all his might to keep his comments to a minimum. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime to the Pointman, the speaker stepped back and the audience humored him with a mild applause. The students rose and shuffled forward collecting their diplomas with looks of relief weighing heavy on their features. Arthur momentarily tried to recall his graduation for college but remembered swinging by an office, collecting a slip of paper and carrying on his merry way. After the last hand is shaken they returned to their seats before sliding their tassels across their caps.

People began filing out around them. Arthur nudged Eames. "Forty-five minutes, warehouse. Playtime is over so make sure you're ready to work." He caught Yusuf's gaze, "You too."

"Wouldn't it be better if we postponed today and got remarkably sloshed instead?" inquired Eames, before tucking his phone back into his blazer pocket.

Arthur frowned, he found himself hoping Cobb would walk up behind him, back him up before the dissenters caught wind of his weakness, but the older man never appeared, "Look, we're on a timeline here. Especially Cobb."

Something flashed across the humor filled expression the thief had been wearing but the usual mask of guile returned before Arthur could hypothesize precisely what it was. "Very well then, shall you be acquiring lunch or shall we?"

"I'm not giving you my credit card Eames, now go."

Eames slumped his shoulders in a fashion that would have made a tantrum throwing child blush in awe before turning with Yusuf and departing. Arthur turned back mere seconds before he felt a soft petite body crush against his own.

"Do you know how good this feels?" Ariadne mumbled from within the folds of his coat.

Arthur froze and his mind began racing. Did she mean touching him or graduating? He placed a hand upon her shoulder and forced his body to relax. "Pretty nice to finally be free eh?" Take the high road he told himself no reason to recreate that awkwardness that was beginning to wane.

"There are no words." She pulled away slightly and looked around at the few people who were still scattered about, "I will miss it though. Especially Miles, he always had faith in my abilities."

Arthur smiled slightly. Ariadne stripped off her robe and cap, leaving them on the chair. She was dressed in a conservative skirt and blouse with dainty sandals. She grinned sheepishly at Arthur, "Shall we go?"

He nodded, "If you're ready. Are you certain there is no one else you'd like to speak to, family or friends maybe?"

Ariadne hesitated for a moment before taking her hand in his own. "Nope, I'm ready to start the first day of the rest of my life with a bunch of cons and thieves."

Arthur chuckled despite himself and allowed her to lead him back through the foyer out onto the steps. His phone began to vibrate in his pocket which caused Ariadne to pause. Arthur broke his grip on her hand and fished it free. A tiny grinning picture of Eames stared back at him from the screen. Something in his gut turned, something that told him it could be important, but he reminded himself precisely who it was that was calling and pressed the ignore key instead. Ariadne looked at him expectantly and he shrugged, "You know how he is."

"Thirty three going on seven, yes." She retorted. Arthur laughed slightly and the carried on towards the warehouse. As the reached the bottom step of the university it occurred to him that the storm had been carried away by the summer winds and the sun was high. He reminded himself he didn't believe in signs, but he couldn't deny that a small corner of his mind was saying that this weather was exactly what that was. Things for them would be different. They wouldn't end up like Cobb and Mal, no matter what he was required to do.

A/N: First off, thank you to all of those who have been taking the time to review, I appreciate it greatly. Secondly, I apologize again for the gap in updates, I ended up getting wrapped up in extra hours at work and then a soccer tournament. Now that things are beginning to level out I hope to be updating more often but I've said that before so we shall see what happens. But as I already said, thank you for your feedback! Also, for those of you who have found this story and are looking for AriadnexEames stories I'm afraid this isn't one, those two just happen to be the focal points in this story. I have them both listed as characters because of such. Sorry for any confusion!

Things are going to begin getting a little bit more intense for the crew and I'm excited to start writing a few action scenes in the upcoming chapters.

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	10. Chapter 9

Eames leaned back in the wire chair of the café and exhaled with bliss. He knew that when the business of dreaming finally ran its course and it came time to retire he would pick Paris to settle down. No where else in the world could one get food so brilliantly prepared. Of course, he reminded himself, retirement would probably be short lived since the foods he found himself most drawn to were bathed in butter and a clogged artery would likely be his undoing. Oddly ironic considering the amount of close encounters with sharp things and bullets he had had.

Yusuf sipped his wine slowly, "Arthur is going to be pissed we stopped for lunch you know."

Eames shrugged, "Wouldn't be surprised if we beat them there mate, no way Ari will want to head straight there. Lord knows she's got to be a bit hungry herself and did you see those shoes? Quite uncomfortable if worn for more than a few hours, take my word for it."

Yusuf's brows furrowed together, "This is Ariadne we're talking about. Something tells me she's the type of girl who would skip lunch and gladly sustain a blister for work without a second thought."

Eames shrugged, "Well it's not as if they'll get far without Cobb anyway."

"Speaking of which, where has he been?"

Eames shrugged indifferently but had been wondering the same thing as well. Dom had wandered off shortly after their arrival in the city and hadn't mentioned where he was going or for that matter, when he was going to be coming back. They had expected to see him at the graduation but he had remained absent. In fact, the only contact they had had was the short text message he had received the night before explaining he wouldn't be able to make dinner. Eames had pondered if perhaps their extractor had decided to abandon the mission and retreat back to the states but that didn't sound like Cobb's style, especially considering the stakes. Still, something nagged at Eames's senses, there was wrongness in the air that was clinging to him, whispering in his ear to be on alert. He looked across at the chemist who was gazing out at the individuals on the street. Yusuf wasn't a fieldsman, more importantly he wasn't a thief or the type of individual who could recognize if they were being tailed or not. His eyes followed his line of sight and watched for those who would be watching them, attempting to appear casual and much to his annoyance nothing struck him as being out of sorts.

Eames scratched his chin and sat his credit card on the check. "Think we should be heading that way about now."

Yusuf nodded, "Probably not a bad idea. Who knows, maybe Cobb is already there."

A waitress glided over and collected the check hardly acknowledging the two gentlemen. She was of average height and weight and gifted with dark hair and heavy lidded eyes that left the impression of a daydreamer for an onlooker. Eames studied her saunter as she moved towards the cash register swipe his card. Her hips sashayed in perfect timing, almost as if she assumed he would watch her, which, he reminded himself, he was. He pictured slowly undressing her, capturing her lips with his own, imagining the flutter of eyelashes as she arched and squirmed when an alarm sounded in the back of his mind and he pulled himself from his reverie. Now was not the time for such distractions, such things could mean the difference between a bullet between the eyes and a narrow escape. And, like clockwork it was then that he noticed the man in the grey three piece suit three tables over.

On his way back to his hotel the night before Eames had begun pondering the whereabouts of certain individuals in his past that still wandered around Paris now and then, something he chalked up to resulting from walking passed the now closed night club.

One of the first conversations Eames could recall having with Arthur was in regards to peripheral vision. This topic had come up after Arthur had accompanied Eames to a casino in the Bahamas three years earlier. Arthur had disappeared early during their trip only to be rediscovered as king of the poker room a few hours before the dinner buffet opened. Eames, up until that point in time had reluctantly donated every clay chip he had come into possession of. During dinner that evening Arthur had invited him to an Omaha tournament that would be taking place an hour after they finished their meals, giving them enough time to freshen up beforehand. Eames had agreed, hoping that the tables would change his luck up a bit.

…Oh, how wrong he had been.

The buy-in had been ten thousand American dollars, chump change really. The caliber of player however, had much to the thief's misfortunate, read him for what he was and had disposed of him quickly. Feeling disparaged and oddly downtrodden, he wandered to a bar and drowned his losing streak in gin and tonic water, with a slice of lime to sting the wounds. Arthur had joined him an hour later, a handful of neatly stacked chips landing on the bar before he took a seat.

"Won the whole thing then?"

"No, third, I'm a bit rusty unfortunately."

"Payout?"

"Five, not too bad I guess."

Eames was in disbelief. "Well at least we know now you're indeed human, I mean only third and five hundred thousand…" he leaned in and Arthur leaned away, "Tell me your secret mate, how do you do it?"

Arthur motioned for a drink and cleared his throat, "Practice mostly. I've been playing poker for a while now."

Eames was unimpressed by this answer. He had known a variety of swindlers and gambler. Each had tricks that had given them an edge over the house. Arthur of course, wasn't playing against the house but against other people. "Come on then, what else?"

Arthur sipped his drink, took a deep breath and then rattled on for nearly two hours straight about different techniques he applied to the poker table. Eames, having already indulged in four gin and tonics processed less than forty percent of what was being said. There was information on knowing when to fold, when to raise over the top, when to bluff, and how to read your opponent. Somewhere in the midst of the poker drabble Arthur mentioned honing his peripheral vision. According to him, people were a lot less careful when they assumed your gaze was focused somewhere else. Only later, when they had been working a job and he had watched the now seasoned Point Man put this skill to use did he himself bother to learn it. Granted, he was never as good as Arthur was, he had been able to spot a few sets of prying eyes, managing to sidestep traps waiting to be sprung on him or colleagues.

As he accepted his credit card back from the waitress he made a mental note of the trap that was likely waiting for them around the corner of the café. Eames glanced at Yusuf. Though he had not spotted him at the graduation, Eames had suspected Antoine of lurking close by, but then again, he had always suspected him of being not too far behind when they were in Paris. Of course, the man in the three piece suit could also belong to Asagi, a lookout put in place to make certain that the job they were intended to do was done effectively but that was not how it felt, no, this man belonged to Antoine, the way he sipped his tea, the way he folded his napkin, everything down to the way he buttoned his suit screamed Antoine.

Eames fought his initial reaction which warranted leaving the chemist behind and retreating himself, doubling back at a later date to collect Yusuf who would likely have no clue precisely what had occurred in the brief interval of the thief's absence. Eames liked Yusuf, enjoyed his company immensely, considered him a master of his craft, but gave him very little credit as far as tactics and skills in the field actually went. True, he had kept them out of harm's way on the first level of the Fischer job but after a night of drunkenness in Vegas, he had admitted that had been pure luck coupled with horrid driving more than skill.

Eames chewed his lip and focused his gaze forward; watching from the corner of his eye for any movement from the man in the suit but there was none. The waitress slid into view again leaning over a table, her ample chest all but in the male patron's face. Eames scratched his chin once more. He reasoned he could have been making everything up. It wouldn't have been the first time that he had sensed a tail when in fact it had nothing more than his own shadow that had been his pursuer. True, the man could belong to Antoine, could be following them, but could know nothing about Asagi or the current contract. His face sunk into his hands and he inhaled the scent of his flesh trying to clear his mind.

Though he had said nothing, for the first time in ages he had dreamt a true dream the night before. It had been a startling dream, more of a nightmare really. After all, it had been years since he had allowed himself to imagine what she looked like, allowed himself to ponder exactly what Sofia's lips would feel like against his own once more. And when her tiny form had pressed against his own, pulling him from his conscious mind, when he had forgotten that he was dreaming, that had been when she had cut his heart out and he had awoken with a start. Now even the slightest movement from someone out of place seemed suspect.

"Are you all right man?" Yusuf asked, "Heat getting to you or something?"

Eames groaned, he parted his fingers and gazed over to where the man had been sitting but he was gone, having moved on, Eames assumed, to bigger and better targets. "Being paranoid that's all."

Yusuf nodded absently, "Well it seems appropriate, that man you've been eyeing kept looking over here at us. Don't suppose Asagi is having us followed do you?"

Eames felt his jaw drop slightly, "You noticed him also?"

Yusuf chuckled finishing off his glass of wine. "Of course I noticed him."

Eames rose slowly, setting his napkin on the table, "I don't think he belongs to Asagi, I think he may belong to someone a bit more dangerous. Best we split up mate. I'll meet you at the warehouse. Don't suppose you're carrying a gun?"

Yusuf smiled and pulled his tweed coat back where three capped surgical needles were holstered in a hidden pocket. "No gun, but I prefer it my way."

Eames cocked an eyebrow. That was twice the chemist had surprised him in less than two minutes. "Very well, five minutes, evade as best you can."

Yusuf nodded, "Of course, you first. Oh, and good luck."

Eames cocked a smile and shoved his hands into his pockets starting in the opposite direction of the warehouse. He plucked a cigarette from a case and pressed it to his lips lighting it as he rounded a corner. He paused just long enough to catch the man in the gray suit and two others walking towards him. "And to what do I owe this pleasure gents? You see I have a bit of an appointment to keep so best we make it quick."

The man in the gray suit retrieved a switchblade from his pocket and snapped it open. "We've been sent to deliver a message. He knows Asagi found her, and he won't be having you or your friends get in the way of stopping him in reviving her."

Eames felt his throat constrict…Antoine had found Sofia.

The man in the gray suit lunged at him. Eames snapped from his reverie and dodged, delivering a sharp blow to the back of the man's head. The other two moved forward but Eames wasn't fazed. He dodged and struck knocking them unconscious before they realized what had hit them. The cigarette which was now little more than ashes fell from his mouth onto the cement. He shoved his hands back into his pockets and tried to wipe the fear filled look from his face.

They were in trouble. Antoine was back in play. After four years of silence, the dark king had pushed them into check.

**A/N: Sorry it took so long for an update, I've been well, slightly indisposed for the last seven months. Anywho, it seems Antoine cut the crew off at the pass so Asagi is no longer an issue, instead they must stop him from waking up Sofia so that she can do what she does. Dun Dun Dun**

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	11. Chapter 10

The guilt of inquiring after Miles weighed heavy on Cobb almost twenty-four hours after the fact. So much so, that he had skipped out on not only dinner the night beforehand and the graduation that afternoon. He would beg penance at a later time, and if Ariadne chose not to forgive him he'd decided he could live with that. Not that he wished her ill feelings upon him, but innocent lives were at stake this time around, even if Eames chose to believe otherwise. They couldn't have some crazed businessman unleashing hell upon them. Eames appeared to know little about Asagi other than his desire to figure out who Murninham had contacted, and Cobb was hesitant about finding out what Saito knew at this point. He and his former employer had not spoken since their return from Limbo, and Cobb was uncertain exactly how the man would react if he knew the extractor was back in the field, even unwillingly.

In the comfort of the warehouse Cobb once again went through the documents that Asagi had sent them, a half empty bottle of wine and Edith Piaf keeping him company. The cloud covered sun poured through the dirty glass, illuminating spider webs and thick dust upon the sills. The breeze at this height was pleasant however, and the humidity of the early afternoon seemed to not travel quite that high. After a year of abandonment, the warehouse was still as Cobb had left it when they'd headed to the Fischer job, something that brought with it a sense of familiarity nearly enough for him to remember how much it actually was that he'd enjoyed the extraction game. He exhaled and returned to the documents shaking himself from the brief reverie.

According to the information provided, Murningham was a loner, something that would work to their advantage. What was more, he was a man who kept a routine strict enough, to make even Arthur seem sloppy. It would be a simple job, and for reasons he couldn't understand the unease that had sunk in the day before lingered. He glanced at his watch before inserting the disc into his laptop. The graduation ceremony would be wrapping up anytime now, and it would be less than an hour before the others arrived. Ariadne's job would seem simple compared to the one beforehand, no doubt she'd excel at whatever task they presented her with. Eames could perhaps play the role of a remorseful Asagi interested in reconciling and Cobb a prospective client interested in who his competition for the software was. Yes, simple enough

Much to Cobb's disappointment the disc was nothing more than a copy of all of the files already scattered about. He exhaled and sat back upon the broken couch that had served as his bed the night before. Asagi was hiding something. No one did this much research for something so trivial. Hell, even though it wasn't his style Cobb half pondered why Asagi's hadn't just had Murningham killed…

Cobb sat up quickly and froze, his fingers hovering above the computer's keyboard as the chime of a new email in his inbox echoed around him, but he was deaf to it. He fished through the paperwork once more. No, killing him wouldn't work, that would have implemented Asagi for certain. The former investor had been more than vocal that Asagi wanted him dead. Murningham appeared methodical, chances were if that his death would bring about the destruction of Asagi's company. Asagi wouldn't have that would he?

Yet, if his mind was destroyed, if he was fodder for an insane asylum, but his team couldn't do that, only an assassin could do that, and they were extinct with the exception of one.

The feeling in Cobb's gut tightened and his mind reeled. Asagi didn't care what Murninham knew, he was going after Sofia. The target had been misdirection to keep the team distracted long enough for him to reach her. Cobb felt a chill run down his spine. He inhaled deeply. They would have to move her, sooner rather than later it seemed. Cobb massaged his temples and tried to calm his heart. He glanced upon the toolbar of the computer and clicked on the email icon, hoping the night nurses at the hospital would take the inconvenience with a grain of salt when they saw that the balances in their respective checking accounts had grown exponentially.

He had intended to have her moved the minute Eames had mentioned that Asagi had known where she was, but had hoped they'd be afforded more time, or that at least he'd be able to locate Marcella beforehand so she could oversee the move since they were away from the states. Even though they hadn't spoken in years, he doubted the other woman would forgive him if something befell Sofia in her unconscious state. He cursed under his breath, another risk he hadn't wanted to take, but a necessary one it seemed. Mentally he reminded himself to berate Eames when he arrived that afternoon.

The new email that had arrived during his revelation stared back at him. The name column was blank but the title was all he needed to know who it was from. "The Black King was smiling at him", it said. Cobb clicked the message;

"_My little sparrow will sing her song once again it seems. Checkmate, old friend."_

Cobb reached for his cellphone ignoring the post script and the subtle hints at interests in a certain architect.

* * *

_One day earlier..._

Keno Asagi counted himself amongst the cutthroat business men of the twenty first century, willing to trade nearly anything to get ahead. As such he had not hesitated to hire an extraction team to protect the computer program that he had dedicated the last twelve years to. Thomas Murningham, his ex-investor and once most trusted friend had been a weasel, something he had sensed early on in their dealings but had chosen to overlook for the sake of creation. With such a volatile creation, investors had been limited, never mind close friends. What he hadn't expected was Murningham to actually run off with a copy of the program, destroying the motherboard's it had been housed on. Asagi's blood had boiled when he had found out, and he chided himself for trusting an American.

Of course, he wasn't stupid. No, despite the entire destruction of his consoles and the inability of his staff to recover the damage done, Asagi had one copy that Thomas Murningham had not known about. An insurance policy just in case the investor proved to be less than dependable. He smiled and chuckled lightly, lounging at his desk toying with the disk. He had buyers of course now, but Asagi remained hesitant to sell. He wasn't interested in starting a global meltdown quite yet, he had too much nice property scattered about for that. What was more, he doubted anyone would have the capabilities of actually controlling the program besides himself and Murningham, and chances were, the American government would know soon enough about the program if they didn't already. But that was the job of the extraction team, to see precisely who it was besides the investor that had learned about the program.

He placed the disk into the top drawer of his oak desk and locked it away. When he had learned of the betrayal he had researched dream sharing extensively, initially hoping to go into Murningham's mind and extract the knowledge he had collected, leaving him none the wiser to what he had known. Unfortunately it seemed, no such thing existed in dreamsharing. True, the dreamers could figure out exactly what Murningham's secrets were, and figure out exactly who it was he had told about the program but that didn't help Asagi.

Of course he had considered having the man killed but that was blood his company didn't need on its hands. That was when he had come across a variety of dreamer who could solve all of his problems. During his research he had discovered individuals called assassins, known for leaving subjects in vegetative states. They were subtle in their methods but dangerous and when they did their job their victims hardly ever recovered. They were few and far between, usually exterminated before they came to fruition. There was only one recorded in the history of dreaming who didn't have a death certificate, a woman who had been a military project but her trail had run cold four years prior.

He had found the team she had worked with, had studied their paths extensively. Somewhere before her disappearance they had separated, two even turning up dead in the last four years, one other's trail going completely cold. He had hesitated in pursuing them but when an old friend had spoken highly of their leader Dom Cobb he reconsidered. Asagi had inquired about a man named Antoine but Saito knew nothing of him. Asagi stalled not wanting to risk jumping the gun and making a fool of himself. What was more, he held little interested in the whole team only their assassin, and his instincts told him they weren't going to tell him where she was.

And then by chance, he found her. A hospital snug in the Midwest of America housed a small ward for coma patients. The failing global economy had reduced his company to creating programs against hackers who siphoned insurance information a few months back and that particular chain of hospitals had sought out their software. It was petty work, but an excellent front for his side projects. It had been during this same time, while tracing receipts in the many names Cobb's team members used that he found one that fit to that particular hospital and he would have missed her had he not been occupying himself with resetting video cameras.

At first he hadn't been certain; the small blonde woman fit the profile of the assassin. Her body was frail, the result of four years of atrophy. He would have ignored her and moved on usually, but the absence of patient profile and any records of regular payments made him pause in wonder. It was only after he found that she had been committed by a name the thief had used on occasion did Asagi's heart settled in his throat. It was a long shot, a very long shot. And had it not been for the look on the face of a one Mr. Eames when his assistant showed him the picture on the camera phone he probably wouldn't have pressed it.

He had flown to Vegas two weeks earlier in order to meet up with the forger. Saito had arranged the meeting and Eames had agreed. He had opted out of staying in Vegas to meet the rest of the team and flown back to Paris, despite his interest in meeting Cobb. No, there was no way the sleight of hand would have worked if he had been present himself. The picture on the phone and the empty threat had done the job. During his research Asagi hypothesized the reason for the way Cobb's team had dissolved was in regards to the assassin. After the way the forger had reacted he was certain.

Now the decoy was set. With Murninham as a distraction there was no one to stop him from closing in on his prize and turning his opponent into little more than a vegetable. Cobb and his team would be too concerned with completing the job and making certain she was never awoken. They would never know Asagi was more interested in her than anything they found. Men of his caliber didn't play in dreams; they dealt in the real world. Now, the only thing he had left to figure out was precisely how to revive the blonde assassin. She had been in the coma for four years, the likeliness of her mental state being intact seemed unlikely, but if he found the Memorist…Well, if he could find one person, then another shouldn't be an issue.

He rose from his desk and stretched moving towards the mini bar nearby. His flight back to the states left in a few hours and his assistant was late, something that made his nerves stand on edge. He grinded his teeth as he poured a scotch swirling the drink before taking a healthy gulp. The office door behind him creaked as it swung open. "You know how I feel about tardiness and despite my mood I'm not beyond replacing you. Now then, how many times are you going to make me tell you?" He slammed the empty glass down on the bar and turned, his eyes going wide.

The man standing across from him was smiling lightly. He was tall, lean with a piercing gaze that made Asagi's body go rigid. "You're mister Asagi I presume?" He moved into the room his hands folded behind his back. Asagi nodded slowly. The man smiled, "Good. Now tell me, do you know who I am?"

Asagi nodded again, "You're name is Antoine."

"Excellent, that will save us from introductions then." Antoine moved into the office, his gaze moving from Asagi to the bar. "Be a gentleman and make me one of those, but no ice ruins the scotch. Top yours off as well, we have business to discuss."

Asagi jumped into action, pouring two scotches, his hands shaking. Sweat beads formed on his forehead as he moved carefully across the office to where Antoine stood. The man reminded Asagi of a large cat, the smug expression like drool laden fangs waiting to sink into the soft flesh of his next victim's underbelly. Asagi prayed he wouldn't be the prey of choice.

He passed the drink over and Antoine accepted with a nod, tilting his head back and sipping slowly. The amber liquid sloshed against the glass as Antoine turned his gaze to Asagi.

"Now then, if you are familiar with whom I am, I'm certain you know why I'm here?"

Asagi's mouth and throat had gone dry. "H-How?"

Antoine smiled once more, "Easy enough actually. Dom Cobb counts himself amongst the more gifted Extractors, and by no means, is he not brilliant. Unfortunately, he's never been very good at keeping his trail clean. You aren't granted immunity in your wife's death without having powerful friends. I had suspected his handiwork with what happened regarding the Fischer's. Your little revenge scheme and association with a one Mr. Saito only helped reaffirm my suspicions."

Asagi didn't understand. He had been watching for any signs of Antoine since he had first come across the assassin but the man had never shown himself. "I won't tell you where she is. She's mine to use, I need her." Asagi's voice sounded fragile even to his own ears.

Antoine swallowed the remainder of the scotch. "And you seem so confident that you'll be able to wake her up, never mind control her. Tell me, my dear fellow, have you ever been in the dream state? Do you know what it'll take to bring her back?"

Asagi hesitated long enough for Antoine to continue, "A Memorist, yes, for not only have they dropped her deep within the depths of a hell, but they've left her there, a maze without an exit. The only person who can lead her back is the person, who lured her there, and I know you don't know where to find that woman...No one does. Quite unfortunate the both of us isn't it?"

Antoine poured himself a second glass of scotch, and took another sip. "You've proved quite useful though, a well-placed pawn if I've ever had one." The doors to Asagi's office burst open and two men dressed in well groomed suits stepped inside. Antoine turned to take his leave pausing at the threshold. "I'm sorry to say you won't be making your flight today, I'm sorry to leave you in such ill company, but I must see about acquiring a new architect." He lifted his glass, "pleasure doing business with you."

The doors closed in his wake and the two men closed in. Asagi dove for the top drawer of his desk seconds before the bullet pierced his skull.

* * *

This chapter is brought to you by:

Mikky Ekko: Who Are You, Really?

Fun Fact: Little Sparrow-Nickname for Edith Piaf! I'll tie this in later I promise!

A/N: I apologize for the time between updates as always. I have been working seventy plus hour weeks for the last few months and also attend classes full time. When I had initially begun this chapter, I hadn't included Cobb but wanted to add him. More updates soon I promise! Classes are nearly out for the summer and the muse is alive!


	12. Chapter 11

The early afternoon sun warmed the cobbled streets enough that Ariadne had found herself compelled to walk barefoot the straps of her shoes dangling from her fingers her chin cocked forward. Despite the notion that work awaited them when they reached the warehouse, relief had washed over her the moment she'd stepped into the street. Sure, she'd miss school but the prospects of the future seemed more welcoming than daunting. Arthur's usual stiffness seemed less so today. She made a mental note that the occasional clumsiness clearly had its payouts.

They sauntered slowly down the street, the conversation idling at times but never falling into a zone of discomfort for Ariadne. Arthur hadn't inquired about her plans now that school was over, something she found herself silently grateful for. Instead he mused about the weather, Paris, and their destination for lunch. She wanted to take his silence regarding her future as a sign he saw her becoming a permanent member of their team but warded her mind against it. She knew that such an induction would not occur without Cobb's approval, and his absence since lunch the day prior left her pondering if he questioned her legitimacy in the future of their group. She exhaled and pressed the thought from her mind just in time to gaze at Arthur who was staring back at her curiously.

"So…" He trailed off, his hands shoved deeply into his pockets.

"So what?"

"Lunch, what sounds good to you?"

"Oh, right. Whatever sounds good to you I suppose. I'm hungry but I'm ready to get to work." Ariadne smiled at him.

Arthur stopped in the street briefly, "Do you want to change before we head over there? It may be a late night; I don't want you to get cold or anything."

Though Arthur's stiffness had vanished it had been replaced by a certain awkwardness that seemed only to appear whenever he mentioned anything that directly impacted her wellbeing. Idle chit chat was fine, but Ariadne almost pondered if when he asked if she wanted to change if he was imagining her doing so. She felt the heat rise slightly in her cheeks as she acknowledged the fact that she wouldn't entirely mind having him watch her change. "Sure, we can stop by my apartment on the way there. I have some leftovers we can eat too if that sounds good."

He nodded, "Lead the way."

Ariadne continued on, Arthur once again at her side. The air fizzled between them lightly. For the first time since she'd been introduced to dream sharing she considered waiting on work to explore her relationship with the Point Man a bit further but pressed this notion away as well. She liked Arthur; and the prospects of a hasty lovemaking session seemed unappealing when she wanted to know him intimately. She chanced a gaze at him only to see him staring ahead, lost somewhere in the back of his mind, perhaps processing thoughts similar to her own.

They reached her apartment a few minutes later. Ariadne had moved into the apartment shortly after the Fischer Job, finding that with the money she'd procured from the job allowed her not just a nicer wardrobe but the luxuries of furniture and space. She'd opted for a single bedroom that rested on the top floor of an older building. Though too small for studio space the view allowed her to gaze down into the courtyard where the apple trees produced flurries of blossoms in the spring bringing with them a sense of controlled chaos that reminded her of the dream sharing.

They climbed up four sets of steep stairs, the passageway narrow enough for Arthur to trail behind her. Ariadne felt anxious at the notion of inviting him into her space. Though she had nothing to hide, the prospects of allowing another person into her domicile struck her as invasive. Since she'd moved in, no one outside of herself and the landlord had been inside. She kept this information to herself and unlocked the door. The sunlight illuminated the living room where drawing supplies and the shoes from the night before rested near a worn couch and a splintering bookshelf.

"Make yourself at home", Ariadne said as Arthur shut the door behind them, "I'll get changed and then we can go."

Arthur nodded not moving from the welcome mat until after she glided around the corner into the room. She pulled the door shut and exhaled. He'd been quiet since they'd decided to detour to her apartment. Now he was alone to wander about while she changed. She tossed her shoes aside idle and gazed at herself in the vanity. The woman who stared back at her was different than she remembered. Since she had met Cobb she'd found herself surprised more than once at her reflection. Where had the student gone from before?

She ran her hand through her loose hair. She'd questioned the legality of extraction and inception more than once. The morality of the jobs had allowed her mind to run the gambit more times than she cared to recall but she hadn't said no when the proposition had been put forth the day before. She had stopped dreaming as frequently but when she did she could see the slain projections from Fischer's mind being shot down by Cobb again and again. They weren't real-he had said so, but still they moved and acted like people and the death that befell them seemed real enough. She licked her lips and undid the zipper on her dress. The feeling of pure creation had been a crossroad and when she'd chosen to build for the Fischer job she knew that subconsciously she'd decided to forgo the moral and legal high ground for the high that came with the feeling of limitlessness. This would be the norm now it seemed.

Ariadne tugged on a pair of worn jeans and a lose summer tee before retrieving her boots from beneath the bed. She ran her hands across the comforter imagining briefly what it would be like to awaken in that bed with Arthur next to her, his warmth and scent pervading the sheets. Her lips twitched lightly at the thought. There would be time for that, but not today.

Almost as if to answer her thoughts a crash echoed through the apartment. Ariadne froze the hairs at the base of her neck rising to attention. Her gut churned, "Arthur?" she called but no response. Her body felt paralyzed, something wasn't right, for the first time since she'd entered the apartment she could sense another presence. She tugged on her boots and coat, and coaxed her breathing and heart to a relaxed pace. The door had been locked hadn't it? Nothing had been moved, no scents of body odor or cologne had greeted them when they entered…

Ariadne swallowed hoping Arthur had accidentally knocked over a dish in the kitchen but she knew better. This was something else or worse-someone else. She grasped the door knob and turned slowly, praying the click was subtle enough to go unnoticed. She pulled the door open only to have the air left in her lungs escape. Arthur's arms were raised in defeat, the nozzle of a handgun pressed firmly into his skull by a much larger man dressed in a suit.

"…Oh-"

"Ari, I'm sorry I didn't notice-" The larger man swung the butt of the pistol across his skull. Arthur collapsed into a heap on her floor, out cold.

Ariadne felt her body coil, every sense screaming to flee yet her legs stayed put, cemented where she stood. The larger man didn't approach, not yet, instead he sized her up, the scowl on his face, almost suggesting he'd sooner fire his weapon then try to stop her from evading escape. He began to raise it slowly when the sound of a toilet flushing distracted him. Ariadne considered seizing the moment but she stood her ground. She couldn't leave Arthur, almost certain that whatever fate that awaited them would be twice as terrible if he faced it alone.

Another man came around the corner; he studied Arthur before shaking his head, "Really Marcus? I highly doubt that was necessary, now we'll have to carry him out of here." He clasped the bridge of his nose massaging it lightly, "Some people's children I swear have you so quickly forgotten we're guests? And put that damn thing away!"

The larger man looked down trodden shoving away the handgun before gently picking up Arthur's fallen form and sulking off into the living room. Ariadne's mind flew in thousands of different directions only to go silent when she caught the gaze of the man who had scolded Arthur's attacker. He was tall, with eyes a deeper blue than she'd ever seen. He smiled at her and approached. Ariadne backed up a few steps and he stopped in his tracks. He reminded her of someone though she couldn't quite place who. His suit was expensive, and looked like something Arthur would own, but there was a confidence that he carried which bordered on the same egoism that Eames sported proudly. Where Eames played his off with trickery however, this man wore his with vanity. Ariadne had no doubt in her mind that he knew she viewed him as a threat, not so much because he could over power her physically, but because his presence had created enough psychological trauma her baser senses had overtaken her rational.

"I'm so sorry my dear, I had so hopped we'd meet under better circumstances." He sighed turning to face the larger man, "Size is, well, advantageous in some circumstances, but it certainly leaves something to be desired when it comes to intelligence."

The words didn't come easily, and she had to focus to keep herself from sputtering, "Wh-who are you?"

His eyebrows twitched and an easy smile graced his lips, "My name is Antoine. I'm an old friend of Cobb's with a business proposition of sorts. Please, I mean you no harm and my dog may look frightening but only bites on command."

The statement wasn't lost on Ariadne, despite the mock scolding the larger man had acted as ordered when knocking Arthur unconscious. She swallowed, "What do you want from me?"

Antoine gestured for her to come out from hiding. "I've taken the liberty of popping one of your Bordeaux's, I hope you don't mind. I'd love for you to share a glass with me so that we can discuss business. You see darling, I am in desperate need of your skills, and well," he smiled flashing perfect teeth, "I'd far prefer you to help by your own accord."

Ariadne moved forward slowly. The larger man had left Arthur upon the couch retrieving two glasses of wine. Antoine accepted before passing one off to her. She gazed down into the murky liquid, her reflection staring back up, almost mockingly. She swallowed a healthy gulp, indifferent to the notion of it being drugged. Whatever it was the man was going to offer, she knew she wouldn't be leaving the apartment by her own free will. Antoine gestured for her to sit opposite him at the small kitchen table. He kept the smile on his lips and Ariadne found herself growing more uneasy with each passing moment.

He polished off the glass before refilling his own and topping of hers. "I'm running out of time unfortunately so this will have to be brief. Our dear friend Dom stole something very precious to me a few years back. You're going to construct a maze for me so that I can retrieve it."

"What is it?"

Antoine clicked his tongue, "Not important now, all I need is a yes or no from you."

Ariadne sipped her wine. "If I say yes?"

"Then we leave here, board a plane for America and proceed with retrieving my possession."

"And if I say no?"

Antoine chuckled lightly, "You won't. You see him," Antoine gestured to the larger man who stood at the entrance of the kitchen. "If you say no, then I say bite. He kills the Point Man who I know you've grown quite fondly of, and it won't be a quick death either I'm afraid. There is quite a bit a body can endure before the life finally goes out of it." He raised his hand to silence Ariadne's protest, "And you'll still help me retrieve my possession." Ariadne stared across at Antoine her eyes wide with fear. Antoine strummed his fingers on the table staring out the window indifferently.

"What is it, what's so important you need me?" Her voice betrayed her fear and she bit her lip.

Antoine stood and moved behind her his hand running through her hair, "Don't fret, I came for you because never before has Miles tried so desperately to protect someone." Ariadne recoiled as his fingers trailed from her hair to her shoulders. She moved to stand but Antoine's snarl wracked her form and he proved stronger than he looked forcing her down into the chair. The wood groaned in protest but held. His fingers moved from her shoulders snatching her chin mercilessly before pulling her hair back. The odd tilt sent pain shooting down Ariadne's back. She bit her lip to stifle the pain only to find his lips near her left ear. "You will help me retrieve what's rightfully mine my dear. If you refuse or protest I promise you that by the time I'm finished with you and that boy and everyone else you've ever cared about, a bullet between the eyes will be welcomed."

He tugged a moment longer forcing Ariadne to cry out in pain. Tears streaked her eyes seconds before the chair tipped forward with enough force to send her to the hard kitchen floor below. She curled her body into a ball intent on making herself as small as possible. She watched Antoine behind the shelter of her hair. The smile he had worn before had been exchanged for a hard scowl that made the larger man look kitten like. He stocked from the kitchen. "Take her. Take them both. I want insurance, and she'll need someone to practice on."

Ariadne tried to scramble but the larger man was on her before she could gain her footing. She screamed, "Arthur, god damnit Arthur, wake up!" the needle was in her arm, the haze of sleep close. The large man released her, the drugs, whatever they were moved fast, fueled by the glass of wine. The fight was going out of her fast, the darkness that so reminded her of dream sharing a welcomed reprieve from the nightmare that was reality.

This chapter brought to you by:

Mind in a Box -Control

A/N: Who needs practice? Anyway, thank you for all the reviews, I was intending to let this story go the way of the dinosaur but received a handful of reviews at the end of last year and figured I'd continue. Our heroes certainly seem in peril, who will come to their rescue? Dun, dun, dun!

Thank you for the positive feedback, hopefully more to come sometime within the next few weeks!


	13. Chapter 12

Eames didn't stop to catch his breath until he was securely tucked into the warehouse, the door bolted in his wake. It was instinct that resulted in him locking the door. He knew enough about this game to know that whoever it was that was after them would be more inclined to break the door down than try the handle first. He didn't have to think too hard to put a name with the face of his pursuer's client. Antoine was back which could only mean Asagi was dead or in on the game. The second less likely than the first where Antoine was concerned. Asagi would have been a useful pawn to the former Architect, stupid and greedy, easy to manipulate without the pawn ever knowing he was being sacrificed on a proverbial chess board.

As he swallowed lungful's of stale air, his body still tightly coiled from adrenaline overload, he couldn't help but wonder why he had returned to the warehouse. Less than a year prior, such a chase would have meant using his team as decoys, allowing him time to make a lone escape. No one cared about a single individual when dream sharing was a team effort. He climbed the stairs slowly, careful to step over any wood that would creak and inadvertently announce his presence. Maybe it was different this time because the job had been one he'd fished out. Maybe it was different because there was a personal attachment to this team where with other teams it had been strictly a job-strictly individuals to work with before parting ways. With this team there was a connection, a sense of family he wasn't quite so willing to throw away to save his own neck.

The door at the top of the stairs was ajar. Eames wished he was dreaming or been smart enough to tote a handgun that day. Though he could take down a single assailant unarmed it wouldn't be easy if they were armed or there was more than one of them. He exhaled slowly, steadied himself and kicked in the door.

The bullet missed his temple by millimeters. Cobb lowered the pistol and holstered it. Eames chuckled, "Good thing you've always been a terrible shot."

Cobb glowered at him, "Who says I didn't miss on purpose?"

Eames felt his body begin to relax, "Fair point. But if that's the case then you're well aware that my lovely lunch with our chemist was rudely interrupted."

Cobb nodded the moment Yusuf rounded the corner. Eames directed his gaze toward the shorter man only to be greeted with a smile. Yusuf opened his coat revealing a collection of empty needles. "Cyanide may take a few moments to enter the blood stream, but it certainly alleviates the cat and mouse game. Not enough to kill them but certainly enough to persuade them to find another target."

Eames was impressed despite himself. "Ariadne and Arthur then…any word of their whereabouts yet?"

Cobb looked away. He folded his arms behind his back and moved towards the couch. "She was the one he was after. There was an email…We're merely collateral. He won't kill us; chances are he probably won't even pursue us after he gets her. Sofia is going to need someone to practice on when she wakes up. He won't rob her of that."

The hair on the back of Eames neck stood at attention, "But he can't know where she is, we made sure of that I thought."

"And yet, not only has he found her he's moved her. The hospital has no record of her on file. Not when she was moved, not when we brought her in, nothing. Chances are he knew where she was before Asagi. If not, then the team he's got working for him is damn thorough. "

A silence passed between them. In that moment a shared guilt brought both Eames and Cobb closer-knowledge that whatever played out next belonged in fault to not one but both parties. It was in that moment of silence that both acknowledge the absence of a point man and architect. "Arthur, Ariadne, if he does have them, well, have you had any contact with them Dom? Any sign aside from the email that he has them?" Eames knew Cobb well enough to know that their leader's mind was elsewhere. Every game he played with Antoine had been little more than a chess game. This was no exception- Eames knew that even if the others on the team were clueless.

"I haven't gotten a taunt yet, but that doesn't change the fact that we know he has them. You know it's true, I'm certain once they're a safe distance from Paris a mocking text from one of their two phones will ping on mine. Wouldn't be Antoine if it didn't. He'd need an architect as strong as Ariadne to lead Sofia out. She's the only non-memoirist with those capabilities and I'm sure Antoine had done his research." Cobb had begun pacing, Eames following his every move with a sharp gaze. He could not be mad at their extractor any more than he could be mad at himself. They had known that their days were numbered when it came to Sofia.

"What do you suggest we do then?" Eames looked over at Yusuf who'd taken a seat on the ruddy couch, his body folded over on his knees, his eyes following Cobb's every step. He wasn't following the conversation and instead seemed to be taking stock in the value of solidarity when it came to this team. Eames could only imagine what was running through the chemist's mind at that moment. With no knowledge of what they were going to be coming up against.

Cobb finally stopped, "There's nothing we really can do except wait now. They'll find us."

Eames gritted his teeth, "That's it then? Do you think Antoine will let Arthur and Ariadne walk away from this alive? Ariadne maybe-but you know as well as I do that Arthur is as good as dead."

Cobb didn't reply but his silence was enough of a confirmation for Eames to continue, "Are you so willing to sacrifice another Point Man, Dom?"

"What choice do I have?!" Cobb snarled, "We all knew the risks involved with these jobs. Arthur is capable, we have to have faith."

Eames wasn't satisfied with the answer. He shoved his hands into the depths of his pockets and turned towards the door. "Just remember Dom, when this is all said and done, there will be just as much blood on your hands as there will be on mine." He didn't wait for an answer, moving out the door and down the stairs without looking back, the desire to strike Cobb flowing through him with the same fervor as a maddening red rage.

He didn't bother looking to see if there were men waiting to strike him down and drag him back to Antoine. Of everything Cobb had muttered the theory that the pursuit had been nothing more than an elaborate sleight of hand to keep him and Yusuf preoccupied long enough for them to snatch Ariadne made sense. Chances were Antoine had done it himself- a thought that made his stomach churn. He fished a cigarette from his pocket, taking a long drag before turning and moving down the street towards the hotel.

He wanted to loathe Cobb for his dismissal of Ariadne and Arthur but he couldn't. A year before he'd have done the same thing without a second thought. So what had changed? He shook his head, pushing the thought away. There was a certain affection he felt for both Ariadne and Arthur. For a brief while there had been a fleeting hope that the affection he felt towards Ariadne would grow into something more romantic, but when he saw the way she looked at the Point Man, he decided instead to take the role of older brother and found it just as enjoyable without the nagging sense of impending heartache that always seemed to come when he engaged with the opposite sex.

Arthur had been his find, his recruit. Though they hadn't always seen eye to eye, there was a brotherly love there as well. The younger man could very well be dead, but he decided not to dwell on that possibility. Regardless, he'd be dead soon enough, or worse, they all would be.

He flicked his cigarette and shook his head. The situation had been far direr than this instance, and he wasn't one to ponder his own mortality. As he rounded the corner to the hotel he made up his mind and pulled out his phone. Scrolling through his numbers, he came upon Cobb's and dialed. The phone rang once before the Extractor picked up.

"Don't speak just listen this once", Eames began, "I'm going to find Marcella. That's our only option at this point. If Ariadne does succeed in bring Sofia back to consciousness, Marcella is going to be our only hope in containing her."

The line buzzed for a moment before Eames heard Cobb exhale, "How do you intend to find her?"

"Contacts back in Mombasa. We're not dead yet old friend. I'd suggest you get your children and head somewhere Antoine won't look."

"This is a risky move Eames..."

Eames shrugged as he passed through the double doors of the hotel, "At this point, risky is a hell of a lot better than sitting on our hands. I'm not going to wait around for Antoine and Sofia to come find me and kill me. Plus, well, I can't leave them to him. I think if we did that, by the time we did find Arthur and Ariadne they'd be begging us to kill them. You know how she can be. I can't let them go through that Dom." He knew Cobb wouldn't say anything and the line going dead was enough for him to know he had the support of the Extractor. He strode to his room and collected his things while simultaneously calling for a cab. Marcella would be in the states, if nothing else he knew that for certain and the country was only so big and their former Memoirist had a penchant for betting on the ponies and cityscapes. He scrolled through his phone and selected another contact, lifting the phone to his ear and exhaling. God help them, this work.

A/N:

So it's been a few months. I've been unfortunately dealing with the combo of illness, a move, getting married, and new job responsibilities so Game of Kings naturally slides to the back burner. But another chapter nonetheless! Thank You to those of you who read and review, your feedback is always appreciated!

This chapter brought to you by:

The Xx-Fiction


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